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It’s pretty chilly outside. You can feel it on your skin, but it doesn’t bite like it used to do when you were alive. You like the crisp smell of a winter morning right before the sun rises. You don’t care much for the sun, but there’s something about watching the light appear in the horizon, coloring the sky. You’ve always appreciated the art of nature.
You sit there for a while, watching as the light takes over. When it gets too bright, memories flash before your eyes and you shudder. The cold has nothing to do with it.
You close your eyes and inhale the thousands of smells in the air around the Hollis house, before crawling over to the edge of the roof and dropping yourself down so you’re hanging from one hand. You pull gently with the other to open the window to her room and you swing your body to land on light feet inside. It doesn’t make a sound. You perfected the art of being unnoticeable a long time ago.
Hands reach to draw the curtains; you’re used to shutting the light out, but you stop when you remember that a certain someone loves waking up to it. You leave a narrow opening, so it will reach her face. In a few minutes, she will be bathed in it.
You lean against the window sill and watch as her chest rises and falls in a peaceful rhythm. Her eyes are moving underneath her eyelids and there’s a slight smile on her face. She’s dreaming. You wonder what is going on in that busy head of hers and you find yourself wishing for dreams too, not just nightmares. For the first time in your undead life, you think that maybe it could happen. This already feels like a dream.
You hope you never wake up.
As the sun caresses her face – from her neck, to her cheek, to her eyes, you know that if you needed air right now, you would be breathless. You’ve lived long enough to know what beauty looks like, or at least you thought so. Nothing quite compares anymore.
You hear her heartbeat pick up just slightly and her body stirs. You move over to the bed and lift the covers to crawl under them just before she opens her eyes. This is something you haven’t gotten used to and you’re not sure if you ever will. You can see the sleep not quite letting go as she studies your face. You can’t help but move closer; although the cold doesn’t bother you, you’ve always preferred how warmth feels. Especially hers.
“You’re cold,” she groans quietly.
“I’m sorry.” You move to put more distance between you, but she pulls you closer.
“I don’t mind.” She rests her face in the hollow of your neck and you feel her breath gracing your skin. It makes your eyes close.
“What time is it?” She whispers.
“Too early. The sun just came up.”
Laura slides her arm over your stomach and grabs your waist to pull you even closer. You wrap your arms around her. Your books always described this in all kinds of different ways, but you never got it. You scoffed at it, considered it a weakness.
“Maybe Dad won’t mind if we sleep in today.” She’s already drifting back to sleep, half on top of you.
If this is weakness, you’d gladly give up every ounce of strength in your body to keep feeling it.