The Man I Live With, Part 1

The man I live with has hot, hot skin. He feels like a heating pad. In the winter this is very nice. I love to slip under the covers and melt into his skin, it's like we have our own private hothouse under the heavy winter blankets. I am never cold when I am with him. Now that it's hot outside I still like a comforter, but the man I live with emits such heat it soon ends up on the floor. During love his sweat drops on my face. He sweats when he sleeps. We keep the windows open and in the moonlight I like to watch the fan play air over his body, cooling him down.

The man I live with has a rich inner life. He is a private person, but occasionally lets me into his mind. I am fascinated by the twists and turns of his thoughts. He can be shallow and deep in the space of a few words. In that way we are alike. My sleep opposite, he knows sleep as intimately as a lover. They have a long and powerful acquaintence. He likes my analogy of sleep being like drowning and says I shouldn't fight it, I should slip gently into sleep and willingly swim into it's depths. I have seen the man I live with sleep 12 hours at a stretch a few times. He claims never to remember his dreams.