remote

I left the light on, as if you were there. It was hidden out of sight, nudging its warm orange glow toward my feet, shading my bed in grayscale, bleeding through my eyelids.
I felt empty without white noise, estranged from the shadowy corners and their flickering dance.
My chest grew tight. My thoughts grew loud. The shadows left their hiding places.
I inhaled just enough to push you out of my lungs and into my bloodstream, but your scent sank into my pores, burrowing beneath my skin.
I remembered I was alone, and turned off the light.