Sammie in the Morning
A short piece by Melba
He sleeps on his side, barely visible beneath the Star Wars comforter. The dark warmth of the room envelops him like another blanket. I part the covers to kiss his scruffy cheek and giggle inside at the shock of red hair standing up on his head. He responds to my gesture with a low grunt that is almost a moan. I run my fingers through his red hair and tickle his ear with my nose. “Good Morning,” I croon. Another soft moan. My next caress is interrupted by the jangle of the alarm clock on the night stand. He sits up—sleepy, a yawning orangutan roused from hibernation, but smiling. After scratching my cheek with a quick kiss, he staggers into the bathroom.