Standing here, its pointless to deny anything. On the edge of reason, logic comes its full circuitous route and fact, fiction and reality blend. I no longer know who I am, but I also don't know what I can't do.
There is a piercing chill wind, stabbing and holding me to the back wall of the shack. Reality dawns, but without the warmth that one would hope. My eyes force themselves open, and behold my surroundings. Maybe they were already open.
I can't tell anymore.
She's lying there bleeding. Dead, or near to it. There's a part of me, that wants to rally to her, stand the pain of my own wounds and protect her. He's fighting a losing battle, the cold has numbed my mind as well as the rest of my body.
The wind picks up a notch. A board it has been reaching around has finally collapsed in under its weight.
Numbness gives blessed unconsicousness. Memories and dreams flood in. I can't tell the one from the other anymore.
Her laboured breath falters.

I can feel it on my collar bone. Small currents of warm air as she breathes in and out, leaning asleep on my shoulder. Her golden-brown lashes cascade like tassles down my back, tickling even through my shirt.
Glancing down the hall, I can see the lecturer has wiped off what I was writing down. Scratching pens echo and continue with the problem on the board. The noise is disproportionate to the size of the class; many are in her position, sleeping away the friday afternoon. I would be too, but for her beautiful breathing. The slight aura of warmth from her side, invisibly caressing. The soft hand resting askew on my knee.
Better than sex. The feeling of possibility, not knowing what she is thinking, doubting, wondering, hoping. I could stay here forever.
A mobile phone in the front row starts ringing, the lecturer diverts to reprimand and she awakes. Hand withdrawn, she gazes up at me:
"Miss anything?"
I try not stare or look away from her. Impossible.
"Don't think so. Sleep well?"
Her head falls back onto the shoulder, her breath falls slightly to the left of before. Awake this time. Tilting my eyes and neck I can just catch her soft face, hazel-green eyes, tilted up at me. This time we gaze content.