The Watcher pulls the covers to my shoulders and strokes the hair from my face.
“I’ll be in the other room if you need anything. Sleep well.”
“Will you stay?”
She pulls an old throw over her legs and sits in the chair that should have been tossed several years back. I can’t bring myself to do it though. There’s something soothing about that big old brown chair with kitty cat claw marks, coffee stains and other age spots. So I keep it, right there in the corner of the room. Sturdy, aged and proud, it sits beside a brass floor lamp that illuminates its precious position. And now my Watcher has positioned herself comfortably in it, for the night will be long and certainly difficult. Continue reading ‘STORY: I Will Watch Over You’
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