She lay in bed, burying her head under the pillow, replaying the sensation of his fingers on her skin. Two weeks had passed and it would be fourteen more endless days before she saw him again.
She hums in quiet desolation, wishing that I would stay.
Or maybe she thinks the song is really catchy, in which case I’m the pathetic one.
I need you to be my mountain, sunshine;
for emotion to try and conquer you, only to perish in the permafrost.