Michael Ginsberg (jewsinspace) wrote in spaceodyssey, @ 2015-04-25 20:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2015, 2015.04, } x |
SOMEHOW IT STINGS
April 18, 2015
Saturday. Shabbat. One is commanded to rest.
Despite the increased trouble he’s been having with sleep recently, Michael obeys. When he has access to a bed during daytime hours his body forces him down no matter how valiantly his mind tries to fight. Today is no different; he’s out cold until after seven PM. It’s a late start for him, and it will make Sunday and Monday even more difficult. Wolfgang will have to help.
At the moment, though, tomorrow and the next day are far from his mind. He’s just begun to wake up, pressing his face against whatever warmth is wrapped up all around him as his eyes squeeze more tightly shut against the small amount of light in the room. He breathes in deep and sighs it out. Already a tiny amount of listless energy is collecting inside him, but he can ignore it for maybe five minutes. There’s nowhere to be. He’s in Wolfgang’s arms. Good.
Except when he wakes up a bit more he realizes Wolfgang is also in his arms, and one of his legs is between theirs, and his face is right against their chest, and it’s not good at all. Michael’s not sure what to do. Should he roll over? Get up? Pretend he fell back asleep and wait for them to leave? In the end he does nothing but lie there silently, worrying and trying not to move a muscle.