The
falling leaves drift by the window The
autumn leaves all red and gold
Silver trumpet notes poured from Miles Davis’s horn
and washed over Blaize where he lay tangled in the sheets and sweaty. Through
his sex torpor he felt Angel’s warm body, draped languid and replete across
his. Her fluttering lashes were still leaving butterfly kiss across his chest
but he knew she was asleep.
The setting sun slanted long, golden rays passed the
curtains and spread them across the bed like a warm October blanket. From the
open window he could hear someone kicking through the pile of leaves he’d raked
up earlier. The thought of his mother demanding he go out there and rake them
again ended on a yawn.
He didn’t want to go anywhere or do anything outside
of this bed. He didn’t want to think or feel. Not about anything that didn’t
involve processed cheese products. Mostly, he didn’t want to fight anymore. Not
with his mom and not with Angel. Because, he didn’t understand how it had all
gotten so complicated. When had loving her stopped being enough?
Slowly, he let his fingers swirl across the lush
heat of her still slick back. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in
the baby powder scent of her. When she moaned, he lifted dark tresses of her
tangled hair away from her face. Her skin was pale and thin now. Since she’d
come home she was all blue veins and shallow breathes.
