I know what she wants. I sit awkwardly at the end of the bed with the covers balled in my lap and say nothing. The reflection of the sun rising in the window across the street causes me to squint. I’m dizzy and my head is aching.
She rolls onto her back, her breasts disappearing into her ribs, and she sighs.
"I’m really hung-over", I say. She responds by pulling the covers up to her neck and rolling onto her side.
"I should go."
I dress in silence. She doesn’t watch. Perhaps she’s fallen asleep. I grab my keys off the bookshelf where my picture once sat and head for the door.
"I’ll call you.", I say in a weak voice.
The lump in the bed doesn’t respond.
I close the door behind me and the latch snaps firmly into place.