I was awakened by the golden light seeping through the door that stood ajar several inches from our bed. Everything was pitch black save the shapes of things I can make out with the help of the little golden light. My eyelids are shaking, still too weak, still too reluctant to pave way for reality. And I bet you know this certain sensation where you still crave for slumber and yet your senses become hungry of perceiving things that surround you. That happened.
And so I heard a rustle from my right. It was my dear. Maybe he also saw the golden light because he slowly inclined to an awkward pose. He was half-naked, but the light clothed him gold. That was when my eyelids lifted themselves up like double sunsets over strong and majestic mountains. I clearly saw him. He was this beautiful kind of rough. Not pretty, but manly enough to pass as handsome. He doesn’t try. He just is.
He stood up from our bed that was messily placed on the floor. He walked towards the door. The golden light ate him up. I have no idea where the heck he is going. But I’m going back to sleep anyway. He’ll show up somewhere in my dreams of black and white.