Warmth

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“Come on, Skye.”
“Mmmmm.”
Someone’s touching me. I’m too tired to care.
“Let’s get you to bed.”
I feel my body leaving the couch. I’m being carried to bed? By who? My still asleep brain doesn’t recognize the voice.
After what seems like a thousand years, I’m lowered to another surface. I can only assume that I have safely made it to the bed. The person tries to pull away but I won’t let go.
“Skye, I have to get to bed.”
I think I pull the person towards me? My body isn’t registering any of my movements right now. I must have pulled the person towards me because after a few seconds, their voice returns.
“Alright. Can you let go of me for a second? I’m not climbing over you.”
The freezing cold bedsheets don’t wake me up, but they do make me uncomfortable. I’m going to have to get warm all over again.
The bed sinks and I feel warmth radiating off something. I love being warm, so I move to the source of the warmth. I think it’s the person? Oh well. It’s warmth and I’ll deal with consequences tomorrow.

Ooooooo. What's going to happen now?!?!?

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