(Nisha)
I dreamt of buttery warmth, eyes of the deep winter forest, and a soft humming floating on late summer air.
Cold, sharp air crowded the edges of the summer; it too soon replaced the contentness with the cutting edges of reality as it pushed back the summer breeze. There was a warmth that stayed, a contrast against the morning air that was fresh after relieving itself of the burden of rain.
Cameron's hand was settled on my hip; it was a heavy, warm weight, and every part of me felt attuned to where it rested. He was still sleeping. His dark blonde lashes twitched against closed eyes. His sharp, stoic features calmed in his rest, and he seemed more innocent, perhaps. His constant worries were erased, and he seemed almost boyish in a way.
I reached out to touch him on instinct,
