Breathing the Night Softly

Salty bubble and squeak. Cooked in butter. Spicy sausage. Cold amber beer.                      —heaven.
A day without time for myself— until now, when the house settles into itself. The cat wandering the hallways. Resting in windowsills. Watching the moon rise, a burgeoning bulb. Brendan almost asleep himself. Breathing the night softly. Right hand opening. Closing. Heart pulse.


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