//: 002
alone now, all he could remember from the night was just a ringing in his ears. a subtle tune of something to remorse. something like the feeling he gets when he buries his eyebrows into her shoulder blade; breathing in the collections of smells on her sweater. feeling the warmth of her body next to his body. anything to dull down the feeling of nothing.
this feeling makes his eyes water; he's unsure of whether he's crying or just tired. he feels like his chest is holding a sigh hostage.
the alcohol seems to have mostly left his brain, leaving a slight headache and a dry empty taste in his mouth. after he curls up on the couch and thinks, "she's probably still awake in her bed." he longingly drifts unconscious.
meanwhile, she's left to contemplate a passionate soliloquy. the kind that repeats in the mind until it's so hopelessly tangled up with 'what-if's' that you have no more prescient thoughts to muster, but to surrender to a dry-eyed sleep. she falls asleep questioning why the bed seems so big and empty, but unconsciousness flutters her mind in burnt out light bulb fashion.
they both hear the tv crackle and hiss a static fiction in their dreams.