baby blue skies, tainted with a slight tint of the passing night, stretch as far as he can see, dotted with wisps of clouds that he watches float by. the air is still cold--morning chills always nip at his skin with their tiny claws--but, he doesn’t mind it at all. it’s quiet, save for the gentle winnowing of the wind and early bird calls.
( you wish you could spend the rest of your days here... )
from behind him, the screen door slides open as the frame crackles. the gentle touch of fabric makes his hair stand on end as the blanket ‘round companion’s shoulders grazes his skin. softly, he intones, “...did i wake you? i’m sorry.” // * @bibinqka.












