The moon was a sliver. As old as she was, she didn't see the moon as round. She saw it as the shape of the light, no matter that she knew better.She lay back and rested her head in her hands. She stared upward and felt frustrated at the murk of constellations. She secretly suspected that all those people who claimed to see them were making it up.
When the moon got lost in a cloud, she got back in the house. She could see him in the kitchen stowing air in the cupboards and she could understand that air must be stowed. They were both too tired to reason.
He went ahead and sat close by and they stood there for what it seemed to her hours.
She closed her eyes and she heard his breathing. He lay back beside her. She liked him there, but she didn't turn her head to look at him.
When she was nearly asleep, she sensed him moving besides her and she felt his head on her stomach. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? He let the weight of it settle on her gradually asking permission in his way.
She felt the sad acceleration of her heart, a misbehaving organ if ever there was one. She knew he could hear it too.
She felt the weight of his head in her lap as she had before. Heads were heavy.
She let her hand rest on his ear, his forehead, his cheek.