I put his dried daffodils in the closet and decide that if he can't touch me I can't either. I'm an insomniac at night, whenever I put my hands under the covers I start pretending they're his and they slowly move further and further down my body, like wild animals looking for water in the desert. I have to stop myself before they reach the lace edge of my panties and it's the worst form of torture that keeps me awake.
It will be dark in a couple of hours, Chloe and I are making plans for the night and she knows about my hands because I told her. "Let's go out in just our finest underwear and coats" she says, smiling, and the idea sends chills down my spine. Maybe we will, we've done it before, like a game we play. No one knows but us and no one is allowed to know. It's a secret we share and the way it feels when we look at each other.