Other stories for this prompt

I woke up in the middle of the night to be covered in sweat. I sat up and looked around my room to find nothing. I slouched back down and began to think of what I had just witnessed. I sat back up and looked around my room again. I got up and walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of water. I filled the water to the to of the glass and chugged it all down. I walked back to my room and stopped at my door. I looked into the hallway and spotted her room. I walked...

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I couldn't sleep with her next to me. And the funniest thing is, I'd been waiting for this moment for three years. Margaret, me, alone in Randy's apartment all night. Was she even asleep? Was she playing possum? I held my breath to see if I could hear her sleeping. But Randy's air conditioner was too loud, and Randy was clearly snoring in the loft bed. I shifted on the couch. My skin had stuck to it; it felt and sounded like I'd ripped a bandaid off.
Margaret didn't move. She had to have heard it. I determined she must...

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I couldn't sleep with her next to me. So cold. Her skin. I had to pretend she was still alive. There was no way that I could imagine she was no longer going to be waking me up with her laugh, kissing me when I refuse to get up for the alarm, tickling me when I roll back on my side and try and get a few more moments in bed, before the inevitable morning routine for work.

She was lying on her back, no longer looking at the mirrored ceiling, but deep in her thoughts. I convinced myself they...

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I couldn't sleep with her next to me. I couldn't sleep anywhere as matter of fact. To watch someone become lost in their on ways and forget the ways of others. I decided to go for a walk just to clear my head. I come to the park see a bum sleeping under the funny pages. I decided to part ways with my jack. I feel the night's chilly embrace. I walk back home hoping I can forgive her betrayal. sigh

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"I couldn't sleep with her next to me. Each night, I'd have a hard time trying to sleep. She was everything I could hope for and I stressed each night, as I'd try to drift off, that she'd realize one day I wasn't good enough for her. Thank god each morning she was there for me."

A married man, Tom, who lived outside of New York, was taking the train, as usual into town. Tom was married to Rosie. Margie, a friend of Rosie’s, who was also taking the train, saw him talking to a woman.
Tom appeared to be...

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I couldn't sleep with her next to me. The smell was making me crazy. She dead to the world, breathing her breath, rustling the covers, each movement sent her smell across the bed. Sour. Sick.

For weeks she wasted away in front of me. Now she didn't eat and her body was starting to draw on what little reserves we left. All fat gone, now her muscle. I was afraid to touch her. Afraid to look too closely. Afraid to see her slow wasting death.

But we still shared this bed. She and I, as always. The only difference now...

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I couldn't sleep with her next to me. Her gentle snoring, calming to almost anyone else, was absolutely maddening to me. It was nails being dragged down a chalkboard, squealing and begging for everyone for miles to be quiet long enough for the mouse dragging its nails to be heard.

I wasn't in love with her. I didn't even love her, not for even the briefest of moments. A marriage of convenience? Who was this marriage convenient for? I knew that she slept with other men behind my back and, conversely, I knew that I slept with other men behind...

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"I can't sleep with her next to me," I'd protested.

And, predictably, Elsa had looked wounded and said, "Love me, love my cat."

So I loved her cat. I mean, how could I not?

And a few days later:

"I can't sleep with the TV on," I said. "I'm sorry. I've tried."

"Okay, Julie," said Elsa reasonably. "That's fair."

And she turned the TV off, even though that got her to sleep quickets.

And a few days later:

"I can't sleep," I said. "It's just a thing. Go back to bed."

And she looked at me, and then she went...

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I couldn't sleep with her next to me. Her body was cold, hard like marble, but also soft -- like frozen meat. That's all she was now: meat. The light was gone, and I could not sleep curled up next to my dead sister.

I needed to sleep. It would be at least another day before we made it to the border, maybe even two before we hit the safe house. Sonia would start to stink by then. And I would lose my mind if I didn't sleep.

Still, her body next to mine reminded me that it was only...

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I couldn't sleep with her next to me.

It's one thing to want to be a bigger man. It's completely different to assume that you are.

My life thus far, untainted by ill temper, prejudice, greed, even religion, had ensconsed me, rolled me out to greet the world. I was the man who fought for the powerless, from the playground to the courtroom. I was the man on the covers of the local newspaper, the man who shocked the nation when my pale hand, wrapped in the dark grip of a powerless woman was held aloft.

I would die for...

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About the prompt

I couldn't sleep with her next to me.
Prompt suggested by Galen
Originally displayed on:
October 18, 2010


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