Warm Ice

The next morning came with the rising of the sun. It made its way through widow illuminating the whole room in a warm yellow right. It stung her eyes. Grace blinked twice for her eyes to adjust.

She threw her coverlet away from her. The chilly air quickly making its was to her exposed body. Grace heads down the stairs made of oak. It was both smooth and rough.

As she descended the stairs she approached the fire place emanating heat and light. Grace made her towards it, the heat hugging her skin. She felt movement and saw that he was sleeping book on his chest, his head lopped to the side, a strand of hair falling towards his eye.

Grace walked towards him, she picked the blanket from and draped it upon him, taking the book laying on his chest and gently placing it on the side table careful not to make a sound.

As she turned to make her leave but he grabbed her hand and pulled her onto him. His chest hard beneath her.

"Marcin" She said. "Are you-?"

"Don't go." He said his voice thick with sleep. His eyes still closed his forehead pinched. She realized he was having a nightmare unaware of the compromising position they were in. She tried to wiggle her way out, finally concluding it was hopeless.

"I won't" Grace said. Even if she tried she couldn't break away from his grasp. She sat there the entire night patting his chest, calming him down in the hopes of easing his troubles.

As the clock ticked away and the fire burned low. She hummed a melody she hasn't sung in forever.