It could be three in the morning, or some other lonely hour that is left untouched by the sun. I can't be sure because the light coming from the window could be coming from anywhere at all. I think, for a moment, that my dreams have carried us to Mars and when I step outside the door, I could fall into the arms of a constellation.
The thought chills me as I turn away from you and the weight of your hand across my shoulder seems unbearably heavy. As though it is pressing into me with some new gravity and my bones are threatened beneath it. I think of them quivering and shaking in the darkness below my skin.
As I start to cry for them, I wish you away in my mind. I close my eyes and wish you into another galaxy, where the sun spins against foreign clouds and the colors, too brightly lit, burn against your skin. I wish you far and into a life that someone else is wishing they didn't have to live.
I wish myself alone at last.