The blue light of late night

I haven't been sleeping well lately. K is moving into his new house this week and with that comes a slew of stress inducing experiences I've never felt having resided in apartments my entire adult life. On a number of nights over the past few weeks I've awakened to an empty spot in the bed where his warm body usually cradles mine. I've walked blurry-eyed into the living room to find him covered in a soft brown blanket on the couch, the blue light of late night tv illuminating the room. I go to him and curl my body into his- I am a turtle, he is my shell.

"My love," he whispers, trailing off. I hear what is unspoken. Go to bed. I don't want this affecting you too.

I can't of course. Because in some ways, what is his worry, is mine.

And so I stay pressed into his warm skin until he says softly in my ear that he thinks he will try now to sleep and together we walk hand in hand to our bedroom.