The Way A Furlough Ends

Here we are in the middle of a train car.

Snowflakes beat against the window. They melt against the heated glass. Outside, waves come crashing toward the tracks: the Sea of Japan, white-capped and frosted; Russia in the dark, impenetrable distance.

I could live in this adventure.

Across the aisle, a woman slips off her jacket.

I look up at you and you shake your head at me as if to say, this moment never happened, but of course this moment happened; it isn't recent.

Did you want recent?

Here we are in the middle of our bed.

My head is on your shoulder. My hands are spread out across your chest. It's mid-afternoon and the sheets are cool and tangled. We're asleep in a pool of sunlight. I roll over and you roll over with me. You wind your arms around me, pull me in.

I could live in this adventure.

But here we are, now, and your alarm is ringing.

It's 4:45am.

Time for work again.