Float

I am awoken by screams. Not horror movie, helpless girl piercing the silent night with her voice kind of screams (6’2″ 175lb Hector is hardly Sydney Prescott), but screams nonetheless.

“What?! What?!” I ask, freaking out about his freak out. 

He’s not lying next to me anymore, but is instead standing in the opposite corner of the room, terrified. 

“You were floating!” he whisper-yells.

“Oh shut up, I was not,” I say dismissively. 

“Babe you were floating–”

“Was not!”

“YOUR ENTIRE BODY WAS SUSPENDED IN THE AIR! WHAT DO YOU CALL THAT, ASH?!”

I’m quiet. I thought he was messing around, but he’s never yelled at me like that before. My eyes well up. 

His face falls. “Baby, I’m sorry, I don’t…” He looks like he wants to come comfort me, but he’s scared I might go full exorcist on him.

“Will you please just come back to bed?” I ask, scared. He’s reluctant, but after a few seconds he climbs in next to me. I burrow my head into his chest and he wraps me in his arms. 

“Just let gravity do it’s thing, babe, okay? No more defiance.” 

We lay down to cuddle. I feel safe in his arms, and after a minute or two of racing thoughts, I calm down. Hopefully anymore floating I do will be only in my dreams. 

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