The Hour I Didn’t Deserve

He tried to jump.

Couldn’t.

His back legs slipped.

I swung my arm over the side of the bed despite the pain and helped him up, lifting him as gently as I could.

The second he was close enough, he leaned in.

Not on me.

Into me.

Like he was making sure I was real.

Then he sighed.

That same old, worn-out sigh he used to make at the end of a long day.