I think about there lives and why they are not returning home until one in the early morning. what jobs they most hold that keep them out so late, what bar they spent that particularly chilly September night in. I am not judging my night may not have been any better.

except; mine was better, the faint and gentle repetition of my lover's breathing is like the soundtrack of the night, the song that you put on after a long day. My love moves in her sleep, and like a fish in a bigger ocean, I have learned to sway with her.