I’m in love with my bed. Or at the moment just the sheet. It was washed and tumble-dried and I still remember how toasty it was last night. I didn’t think about my sleeping position, I just wanted to go fetal and let go. And I was rewarded. I had candied-dreams last night. The kind that you can hold in your hand as if they are cute little jewels that are wrapped in even cuter wrappers. I didn’t even mind having to wake up to change my un-sanitary pad in the middle of night.

But the wind, oh the wind, or rather the air. It’d been blowing the whole night and well into noon while I’m still in bed (because I can’t bring myself to leave). The air is fragrant, like how it was long ago, like how it should be. There was no sound of traffic for the longest time, so the air remains unpolluted, undisturbed. It caresses me with its gentleness and its scent. And I remember…

Outside of the window, the occasional courting birds hide under the fruiting tree, and the feasting butterflies picking out the rotting fruits on the ground. My roaming eyes seek them out, while my body, my sensitive body like my sensitive nose picks up the friction from the sheet and the air. It is good to have a body. Even a bleeding one. I cuddle with the sheet, bunch them up and hold them close to my bosom, as one would with a loved one. For my body is in love with the bed, as my mind is in love with the moment. I can’t bring myself to leave.

Across the street, balloons decorate a neighbor’s front yard, “15”, big and red. Do I want to be 15 again? No. If I’m in peace at this moment, all the moments before led me to this. I can have no regrets. But cake, mmmm, cake. I wonder if I will leave this bed, this moment for another moment with the half eaten cake in the fridge…

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