She lies awake at night.
Her body fills the bed as she spreads out her limbs, searching for more.
Her dreams are filled with touch. His touch on her. The way he caresses her body and fiddles with her hair.
She lies in his arms and he holds her in one piece. His hand sits idly on her hip, while his index finger draws figure-eights. She wonders whether he feels the fat. She wonders whether he can feel her sucking in her stomach.
She feels the weight of his arm. It’s heavy. She feels him holding onto her, the pudding that she is trying to burn still sits with her. She feels the texture of his hands. A little sweaty from the heat and filled with little grooves. She wonders whether he feels her grooves, the multitude of stretches that mark her.
She turns to face him but all of her curls fall onto his face. Under their curtain, she sees a smile. It is mirrored by her newfound happiness.
The smiles fill the silence. They sense the shared adoration as they fall asleep, in each other’s arms. But she continues to wonder.