Oats

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Oats

The whispy crinkle of bedsheets churning around him eased wakefulness into reality. Flickering, his eyelids opened to a blurred and hazy vision. Bright colors, streaks of sun shining across the scene in front of him. And to his right, a small lump.

Blinking away the morning from his eyes the scene continued to focus and sharpen. The chirping of a bird outside and the rustle of leaves left a calm on his ears. Taking notice of the slight pressure in his hand, he curled his fingers—and found another set. Awareness streaked through his body, the lump next to him? A woman. The bed underneath him? Her bed. The feeling in his hand? Her hand holding his.

Eyes finally open, his other senses snapped to attention. The crisp, spiced smell of her hair under his face. The warmth of her body pressed against his own. Legs curled against his and toes lightly resting against the tops of his feet. His arm lightly draped across the curve of her waist. Memories of the night before came strolling through his hand slowly; the pieces coming together and a smile building on his face. Letting out a comfortable sigh, he closed his eyes and settled into his position against her. Completely relaxed, he fell into a comfortable sleep.

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