The sound made him turn away from me, rolling so far over that he could kiss the wall. His back rose and fell like a sleeping giant. I wanted to slip my arm around his waist. I wanted to thread my fingers in his hair, leaving them there as we slept. But I just lay there, my arms locked, staring across the canyon between us. I counted the moles dotted across his back and traced around the knuckled bones at the base of his spine. Eventually I fell asleep and dreamt of huge mountains, which I spent the night trying to climb.

– Roseena Hussain, Novel in progress

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