Victor's Garden

They finished at the same time — not such a rare thing, considering this was one of those nights that made "sleeping together" an inaccurate description of what they were up to. After four or was it five attempts, they were bound to get the timing right, if only by accident. And get it right they did, though as Big Finishes go this one was kind of strange, Emily's and Victor's cries coming precisely in unison, matched one for one until both crashed to the mattress, belly to back, limbs like spaghetti, kaput.

Victor zoned right out. It was understandable, really. They'd stretched the night into morning again and the poor man was exhausted — though Emily did wish he hadn't drifted off in the middle of a kiss.

She felt the steady out and in of his chest against her back and knew he was beyond reach. It made her feel oddly alone, even so close to him now. It left her alone with her thoughts and emotions, with her body and its memories. At the moment such solitude was dangerous, funneling her into a gulf of depression and fear. She started to cry.