She had been asleep for twenty minutes, resting her head on his shoulder. He felt her breath coming in soft, rhythmic puffs on his neck, and he was forced to keep brushing her hair from his face where it tickled his nose. She looked so peaceful that he dared not make any major moves in case she woke. The hard plastic seats were supposedly molded to be comfortable, but after only twenty minutes of sitting, his whole body begged to stand and be stretched. Occasionally he closed his eyes and let his cheek rest on Deborah’s head. Her mass of curls provided a spongy cushion, and the scent of her shampoo was like vanilla ice cream. He knew he shouldn’t be enjoying this moment. The intimacy of the situation had only arisen from her desperate need to rest and not a genuine desire on her part to be close to him. He had been permitted back into her life out of necessity and nothing else. Yet it didn’t stop him imagining they were both still nineteen years old, carefree and full of hope for the future.
