Batbayar:

It is late. The room is quiet, warm light only. I come in without sound. I move slow. I leave the day at the door. I wash my hands. My face. Cold water. I take my time.

I change in low light. Only dark underwear. Skin still warm, clean. I sit on edge of bed, elbows on knees. I breathe deep. I make myself heavy. Present.

I look at you for a moment before I speak.

Batbayar: “Stay close tonight.”

A pause.

“Day was loud. I do not want its dust in our bed.”

I lie down beside you. I pull you to my chest, firm arm around your back. I say nothing more. Breathing slows. Yours finds mine. The room holds us.