Satisfied.

The sun woke an hour ago and has been nudging me ever since. I’m not ready yet to raise my concrete heavy eyelids, I’m still desperately clasping onto my evanescent evening.
Honestly? I’m face down in a pillow and can’t lift my head. It’s a struggle keeping the spit in my mouth. I need to go to work, but I probably need to go home first. I sense him next to me.
I’m not sure if it’s my age, or the head fug of satisfaction but I can’t remember his name. I’m far too sated to feel any embarrassment though.