Nameless.

When I'm alone at night, I stare at the ceiling. I'm alone. It's dark, and the ceiling stares back. I won't move, even though my left calf itches, sending tingly messages to my brain. My eyes overrule the order. They're watering, enough to tell me that I fell asleep too early in the day. Don't move, don't whisper, don't blink...or it all goes away.

Am I imagining things? The ceiling shakes its head like it understands my thoughts. No, you're not.

Good. CAn I blink?

I'll still be here, he assures me.

My eyes drift shut and snap open. The ceiling doesn't have a face anymore. I sit up, looking -

I'm right here, the wall croons. I haven't left.

I can't blink - it's all a dream!

No it's not. Close your eyes. I'm here. I'll be here.

I don't let my eyes shut. They feel heavy. The wall shrugs, but he's smiling.

I won't disappear.

You did before.

I moved.

Isn't that the same?

Depends who you're talking to.

My eyes close and open. I' know he'll be gone -

Right here, the floor calls. I'm still here. I haven't gone.

But you will, won't you.

Never.

Don't say never. I squeeze my eyes shut. You're gone now.

A warm touch on my shoulder.

Won't you learn? I'm never gone.