#jooey

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Trump Kangaroo

"Holden?" Jane whispered, still groggy from having just woken up in the dead of night.  There was no response from the boy next to her in bed, but the sound of his breathing beside her was enough.  Readjusting her position under the covers, the mattress creaked beneath her as she turned to wrap her arms around the gangly body that was slightly hogging the left side of the bed.  As her ice-cold hands touched the man's bare chest, he grumbled softly in his sleep out if protest, but gave up soon after. Continuing on, Jane murmured, "Holden, darling, I just had the most terrible nightmare..." She moved her lips from where they hovered above his ear to just under his jaw instead, kissing the skin there sleepily. "I dreamt..." The girl began, trailing off as she struggled to recall her dream, "I dreamt you'd gone off to war. And you left me. You left me all alone, Caulfield. All alone with Ruthie. They sent a letter saying you were presumed dead and unaccounted for but I said oh no, you were probably in a jazz joint somewhere in Paris and had forgotten all about this silly war and had spent all your money to call home with on chocolate malts and ham sandwiches and-" She was cut short when the boy next to her shifted in his sleep and turned over to face her, his eyes slowly blinking open to readjust to the lack of light in the apartment.  Suddenly all the signs came flooding back to her as she met his eyes, now crystal clear. He was much too short to be her husband, too cleanly shaven, too skinny to be him.  "Oh," Jane stammered, her happy mood dying as quickly as it'd came. "Zooey," she whispered, voice cracking slightly, "It's you."

Jooey Mixtape

love it by Honey Pie! on Flickr.