Between the moments of stillness and the heartfelt words we exchanged, I imagined an evening spent in either blessed calm or the throes of exploration until the sunrise demanded we finally rest. Our tenor remained light-hearted – even when Monica reached for her clothes – and I stole kisses along her shoulder, regarding the prickles of her skin as tells of how she truly felt about the matter. Her words possessed more severity, however. “We need to get back to work.” She even punctuated the comment with a sigh. I frowned, resting my weight on a bent elbow while she sat up and secured her undergarments into place. Her back to me, I could not see if she looked as crestfallen as I felt. “Could we not give it a rest for the remainder of the night?” I asked, my tone of voice soft. I still lay naked on the floor, unaffected by her sudden pull toward responsibility. Monica hung her head for the briefest of seconds before pivoting to face me again.
