Fear of the dark

8 AM on a Friday. "Do you want to see them again", he asks, I tell him that I do. He sits down with me on his way out, I'm wide awake but still in bed. His scent is Bleu de Chanel and morning air, my hair a train wreck on the pillow.

"What are you afraid of", he asks. I lie and tell him spiders, he smiles politely and puts his hand on my knee underneath the covers. I ask him the same thing, his warm hand on my thigh, fractions of an inch away. "I always wanted more from life" he says, "I wanted to have everything". He looks me straight in the eye, his fingers inside me. "I'm afraid of what will happen if I already do."