Not waking—just a small, mammalian turn. Her hand slipped from her stomach and fell over the edge of the chaise. Her fingers brushed my knee.
I found her on the wide screened-in porch. The lake beyond was black glass, and the only sound was the rhythmic, quiet scrape of a branch against the screen. Lena lay on the long wicker chaise, one arm thrown over her head, the other resting across her stomach. She was wearing a thin white tank top and shorts. Her mouth was slightly open. Asleep. -ENG- Sleeping Cousin -RJ353254-
So I stayed silent. I stayed still. And when the power flickered back on an hour later—the hum of the refrigerator, the distant click of a lamp—she drew her hand back slowly, turned onto her side, and kept sleeping. Not waking—just a small, mammalian turn
I never told her.
And then, without opening her eyes, she whispered—so softly I almost thought I imagined it— "Tu es là." I found her on the wide screened-in porch