It remains the case that in the aftermath of any one of my nighttime ventures to the kitchen or to the bathroom, my foggy mind is under the impression that I am crawling back into bed with you.

I still think I am with you, that I am falling back asleep next to you. That there is no city. No Tim. No white noise. Just you and your world. I imagine your body in the darkness. I imagine your face.

I think silly things related to my imagined concerns that only exist in this alternate reality. Things like, “of course Craig knows how to make an obstacle course look classy.”

If Tim does not reach for me, I think I can exist every night like this, thinking I’m with you. There are no arms like your arms, No hands like your hands. No body like yours.

Therefore, should I inadvertently come into contact with any one of those things, I will try not to be alarmed by the realization that you are not there and that I would not see your face if I searched for it.

So all night long, when I’m in my bed, I try to touch nothing and keep my eyes closed. And this brings me peace.