I opened my eyes and she was there. She's always there, whether it was to bring me breakfast or from me rolling over to face her. I love it. It brings me comfort.

I remember the first time I saw her, during the morning after. She looked glorious. Her brown hair was softly draped over her shoulder and the fingers of her right hand were resting on my pillow. It was as if she was still reaching for me. I felt at peace and I wished every morning was like that.

Every day, once she was fully awake, she would excitedly talk about her dreams. Some were about other worlds, some were about nonsense that would happen around the apartment, and the rest were sad. Although her eyes had hints of gloom, the rest of her face showed a smile. She carried her memories strongly.

I wish my face and my words were as transparent as hers were.

I wished a lot. Nothing came true. I had her, yes.

I had nothing else but her. My heart was still empty, although I had everything necessary. My sea was shallow.

This morning, I opened my eyes and I saw her eyes staring at my face. It was as if she was savoring every last bit of me. She diverted her eyes from my face and shifted her focus to the empty bottles next to the bed, glass and plastic. Then, back to me.

I know she'll carry this memory too.

I blinked. Collected myself. And floated above.

Will she follow me?