In the middle of the night

During the night, I stir. Or rather something stirs me - a touch on my chest…. cool… skin on skin… - and I open my eyes.

Annie's living room is dark but for the moonlight from above and the orange sodium glow of the city from below, filtered through tie-dyed curtains. I lay on the sofa, blanket draped over, covering me from my belly to my feet.

Annie stands over me. Completely naked. What little light seeps through the drapes glistens on the edges of her gentle curves. In her hand she holds a glass of water. She looks down at me thoughtfully.

"Annie…?" I say sluggishy, still half asleep.

"You don't have to talk to me about it, Pynch," she says quietly but seriously, in a voice softer than silk.

She bends forward and reaches down to me. I am very aware that, beneath the blanket Annie has leant me, I am quite naked, save for a pair of grey jockey shorts. I try to keep my eyes reined in, focused on Annie's, and not roaming freely across her body.

She traces a fingertip across the raised lines on my chest. No longer red, at least not in this light, and healing slowly. Her touch tickles but I don't laugh.

"You don't have to talk about it," she says again. "But you should have mentioned it."

"Sorry…" I mumble. "Do you know what they are?" I ask.

She shakes her head slowly, sadly. "No," she says. "But it looks familiar." She stands again, a concerned frown painted across her delicate features. She gives me a small smile and tells me to go back to sleep. She pads from the room and sleep quickly takes me back.