It would take nothing more than the lights to be turned down, and I'd crawl unashamedly under my desk, curl into a fetal position, and sleep the death-sleep of someone who's been awake more hours than her body appreciates.
One night, Emi and I will learn how to fall asleep before four in the morning.
But sleep dims in comparison to the softness of her hands on my skin. To her lips beseeching mine. To my fingers waltzing lightly over her nipples.
And even more tempting than sleep are the words passed between us. Emotions and thoughts. Laughter and anxieties. Life.
It will be a bittersweet night when we fall asleep before four in the morning but welcomed like something old.