She fell asleep after a two hours fight with her lover. The struggle
started with a carefully arranged question : Do you love me? or from
her retarded heart.

They argued about the definition on love, that’s pretty much the
same as the story of Raymond Carver. Yes, What We Talk About When We
Talk About Love.

But she stopped profiling herself from the novels, characters, and
poetry. She cried like a baby, shouted like a beast, murmuring to her
unsatisified temptation in life.

Just like any other soap plots, the struggle was shortly beaten down
by her compromise with herself and again, ended up in bed. Lazy or
Lust, we could hardly know now.

After a deep dark times flying away, she was once again awake by
noise from upstairs. A couple was fighting. Woman shouted to man
loadly, man broke things relentlessly, both seems can collapsed
mercillessly.

 

Lover awake, asked what’s going on with this couple?

Nothing. She simply replied.

Then he cuddled her again.

A fighting upon the roof and her body was continuing.

She gave up, she cannot sleep, then went to the kitchen.

 

Icecream in the small wooden bowl, pour out some whiskey.

She can cry now, but she can laugh too.

Crying and laughing was a same conspiracy.

 

At this moment,

He was a silent cold brick, thawing.

And you’re a trembling sad moon river.