The room was silent, aside from the muffled sounds of the party beyond its walls. People were laughing and chattering softly as cheerful music hummed below their awareness. I lay to the right of the bed, staring at the mute television alone, and without really concentrating on the images flashing before my eyes. Was I waiting for something? I was certainly aware that if I went out there I would regret it: I was the only uncoupled person in the entire building, and was not in a mood to listen to the dribble of boring people sipping expensive alcohol. I drifted lazily in and out of consciousness, the pillow beneath my head slipping sideways so that it was supporting my head on its right extremities. The air around me was warm and comfortable, full of a lazy buzzing sound which whispered sleep into my ears. Finally dozing off, I slipped into a brief, dreamless sleep.

When I awoke, it was to find that the space beside me was no longer unoccupied. He was lying next to me, lazy and inanimate in the afternoon sun. He was lying further down the bed than I was, in the fetal position; his thick, neatly combed hair fully visible from my place on the pillow. I had to resist a sudden urge to run my hand through it, knowing that he was not mine. He did not speak, he did not look at me, but he lay in a semi-conscious state by my side. The sun snuck into the crevices on his face, the many years that told the stories of his life, which now sat immobile and oblivious. I adjusted the volume on the television so it was barely audible; another soft hum that contributed to the lethargic atmosphere. This time he stirred. He moved restlessly towards me, leaning his head on my arm. I whispered to him, lifting his head gently and sliding the pillow under it, over my arm and torso. I could feel the pressure of his head on my arm and heart as he readjusted to the new surface. He moved closer, perhaps unconsciously, but something told me he was drifting only just below the surface. I wished I could just touch him, run my fingers through his neat, stiff hair; but he was not mine. He is not mine.