The simple curl of his hair. The curve of her face. The darkness around them. The dim sunlight that pierced the darkness of the room. It is all still there, close enough to be remembered but far enough away that it cannot be touched.
Her eyes opened to see the young man, the boy, next to her on the couch. Her hair was knotted, her sweatshirt crooked from laying beside him. The TV had shut off long before. Slowly, she shifted. The boy stirred and opened his eyes. They smiled at each other. He stroked the gentle curve of her cheek and played with a runaway strand of her hair. She smiled and looked into his eyes, savouring his touch. Eventually, the sweet feeling of having just awoken faded and they got up, searching as all do in the mornings, for food or some other necessity. It is too bad, for the spell was broken when they got up. The simple first moments of consciousness never last long. The spell is broken, but it is not forgotten that they were there, together. They had been close enough to touch, but far enough away that the sweetness wasn't truly remembered. Oh the tricks of sleepiness.