l'été

His hands crept along her thigh and rested at her waist for only a couple of seconds before she pushed his hand off her and moved further away from him. The night was hot, there was no need for blankets, let alone skin contact. The air conditioner was on but it was broken - it was a fucking scorcher in her room, you could hardly move without breaking a sweat. He moved his body closer to hers and kissed her neck. "I love you" he whispered to her, half conscious. She moved further, now half awake from all the restlessness "Can you stop? Go to your side, it's too hot." He unspooned her and turned so they were back to back. She waited until he had stopped moving, when his breathing became deep and crawled out of bed. She went to the bathroom and saw a coward in the reflection of the mirror. She watched a tear collect in the corner of her eye and slowly roll down her cheek. She drank some water and looked at herself again. She looked old. Her face was pale and her eyes looked tired. She knew she didn't need the same things she had lacked in her previous relations; the closeness, the touching, the constant expression of appreciation. She walked to her room and there he was; such an angel, sleeping so soundly, with both hands in his boxers, fondling his private parts. There wasn't anything he could offer her.  She slipped into bed and tried to remember how she had felt at the beginning of it all.

"What do I need?" she whispered to him, but her eyes closed and she was sleeping before she heard an answer.