Words Are Flowing

Max laid on his side, having been rendered unconscious long ago. As I finally looked up from the sketch I’d been working on for hours, I noticed his low, gentle snores. His long limbs were thrown in what he must’ve found a comfortable position, though you couldn’t tell it from the look on his face. His lower lip trembled slightly against the bright fabric and his eyes were squeezed shut.

I wondered aloud “What’re you thinking about, Max?” As if on cue, he flipped over, bright eyes staring, and jumped when he saw me.

“Jude?” His voice was unsteady, uncertain. I assured him of my identity, and asked him what he had dreamed about.

In incoherent, breathy words, Max spoke. “You were there, but it wasn’t you, but you weren’t here, we weren’t here, but we were there…” and on and on until I grabbed his shoulders.

“Max, it’s alright now. I’m here, and you’re here, and it’s good.” He nodded, but put his head on my shoulder. Before I knew it, his breath got ragged and I felt him shed soft tears on my shoulder.

“I don’t want to go back to sleep, Jude.” I rubbed my thumb through his hair and heard words come out of my lips that ‘I’d told myself never to say.

“You’re beautiful when you sleep.”

He looked up at me with wet eyes, confused eyes. “What do you mean?”

I couldn’t help myself anymore. “Your hair in your eyes like that. It’s like,” I thought for and few seconds. “It’s like Golden Slumbers.”