5.15

I have a sudden rush of memory. It's a tactile assault, as it were, from the history of my brain. Suddenly, I'm there in the bed with you again, the open window making no dent in the oppressive heat of our room, and I'm uncomfortably hot against the furnace of your skin. There's a difficulty in moving my limbs, too, as though the skin is stuck to the air around me. I peel away from your back and roll over, kicking the last of the sheets from my legs. I toss myself upright and lean against the wall. Am I in a dream again, or is this real yet? I look back in the darkness and I would swear you're not there. It's just an empty bed in a different room in a faraway place, but all the same--my legs are weak and my skin is shining.
I close my eyes and remember you again.