Sleepless

It was 4:07.

Luka casually noted the time and puffed away the last of his cigarette. He sat awake, even though he would have to get up in two hours. Ceila slept soundly next to him. She nuzzled against his arm, barely moving. His gaze on her stayed, lingering like a touch. In his mind, he replayed the days' events. They awoke together, ate a breakfast of pancakes, bacon and eggs (her favourite) and went to work separately. Guess as they might, no one at work knew of their affair. Only lurid speculation whispered through the halls and he was not one for lurid speculation. "What are they to us?" Ceila cavalierly asked, not realizing, or caring, what effect their affair would have.

The work day was nothing if not productive. A heart attack patient was brought back to life, a girl was diagnosed with strep throat, other nameless, faceless patients came and went. They walked home together and went to bed.

Now he was awake and thinking.

He was thinking about her and why, if at all, she wanted him. He was a spent man, a broken man. He could not deny his life was coming together because of her. He felt happier, even loved, but didn't know how long it would last. She was young. She would grow tired of him. She would find another lover. She would get a great job. When he pressed her, her answers were vague. That wasn't good enough for him. He needed to know. All she would tell him was that she loved him and they were as one soul. It meant something.

For now.

**

It was 5:06.

Ceila nudged against Luka's prone body. She knew he was thinking. She always wanted to know what he was thinking or writing in his notepads. Sometimes he would tell her.

Lately, he was fearful, fearful that she would leave him. She laughed it off. She said the only way she would leave him is if she were dead.

Or maybe he was unhappy.

She shuddered at the thought. Did she not complete him? Did she not love him enough? She swore to God she did. She loved him always.

He would become irritable and ask her if she was happy or if she ever loved him. Would it always be him? Was there a future with him? She tried to allay his fears but could not completely convince him. How could she? She did not have a crystal ball, she would say. She could not see into the future. Fifteen years from now they could be debating how best to pay the mortgage or where to take the children for summer holidays.

Or they could die tomorrow.

She could only ply the certainty of one thing- that she always loved him. Such words, though, could not soothe his dark, fearful mood.

Ceila touched Luka's brow and wished him peaceful sleep. They would have to get up in an hour.