Week #40: Let Me Sleep Beside You

She wept today—that room, all her old things, touching them and realizing there was no magic. Maybe she wept for that. Maybe she wept for rainbows never chased.

And then she cleaned herself up and locked the door and walked to the block party by the pier because she had never been.

Music pulsed and the salty air felt rough and real on her skin. It carried her through the crush of bodies, down a lonely street…

And he was there. He pressed close, whispered things—dreamy, heated things. And she knew then there were rainbows in the dark.


Author's Note:

Disclaimer: Labyrinth (c) Henson & Co; Let Me Sleep Beside You (c) David Bowie