#manny.

it’s the stupidest fear. but clem always makes sure her head’s turned away from manny ‘fore she opens her eyes. just in case. it’s well before sunrise when she stirs –– sleep’s always been a bit shuffled since she lost her sight. and lately she’s been gettin’ those night terrors again. dreamin’ with sight. seein’ his face go gray.

she jolts into a seated position, eyes still screwed shut until she can feel the bedspread, feel the edge of the mattress behind her knees. only then does she open her eyes and let out a tiny sigh.

but then she hears it –– the hitch in manny’s breath. no point in askin’. she knows she woke him. lean legs lift ‘til she can hug ‘em to her chest and rest her chin on her knees. still facin’ away. still safe from disaster. 

“ not mornin’ yet, ”  she mumbles, as if he can’t see it for himself. there’s a twinge of guilt in her gut, for rousin’ him. usually, she’s able to shake these things off on her own, undetected. have a smoke outside, quiet her mind. long nails press crescents into bare shins. the silence feels too... intimate.