That's Not a Ferret

Kristo

I woke up on the couch, feeling almost as bad as I had when I’d come to the night before. Fuck, how long had it been since I’d slept the night anywhere but a bed? As I peeled myself upright, rubbing my eyes and stretching out my crunched-up muscles, I remembered why. Because couches weren’t built for sleeping, and I was too old to pretend I could still pull this off.

By the time we’d arrived at my place the night before, it had been so late that both of us had wanted nothing more than to just get some sleep.

“We should get to bed.” I’d yawned as soon as we’d taken her stuff out of the car and dumped it in the living room. She was swaying slightly on her feet, clearly so exhausted, she could hardly think.

“Do you mind …” She fell silent for a moment, clearly trying to think of the best way to phrase whatever was about to come out of her mouth.

“Mind what?” I prompted her. I was too tired to play games, to mess around and tease it out of her.

“Could I sleep in the bed by myself?”