He mutters and grumbles to himself in his sleep. She rolls nearer to him, unable to rest, unable to tell him how she feels – he would never understand her. He turns his head away in the darkness, struggling to maintain his grip on his fleeting dreams. She smiles to herself and into the night as he starts to awaken, his schedule now like clockwork, his routine settling and helping them both though the day. She drags him toward her breast and he writhes inside his blanket – grizzling and nuzzling before he attaches and starts to feed. The warmth of her baby lures her away from her paranoid insomnia and back under the spell of Morpheus.
This story is a response to this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge, to write a love story in less than 333 words, without using any of these thirty-three words (or their variations) from this list: