And so it slipped.

Nothing was the same. It wasn’t used to resting on my hips and so it slipped. It had slipped times before now but today I was agitated because this had begun to mean something. Maybe I was making it a thing where there was nothing. He snored loudly as usual. My NyQuil cave never failed to do it’s trick.

For every inch that his hand slipped from my waist, I wished he would reposition; grab me closer and smell my hair unconsciously but it kept slipping. From elbows to his limbs, I could feel the something slip into nothing.

Nothing was the same

His palm seemed to be more resilient. It lingered for forty three seconds but still, it wasn’t strong enough to wake up what didn’t exist. It was a surprise that he thought of sleeping over. I knew the Muslim call to prayer wouldn’t meet him here. So as his fingers landed at his side limply, I thought of placing his hand back. While I contemplated my insecurities and desperation, I felt a pull, a peck on my hair and warmth from his snuggle.

I smiled and settled into my nothing like something situation.

Nothing was the same.

~ Ifeanyi Obi


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