"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 back to bed as I'd asked, and she fell asleep. And I looked at her, for a while. So pretty. Not beautiful; pretty, lovely in a way you could hold next to you and cherish as warm and human. I love her. I love her freckles, and her handwriting, and her habit of talking about work.
But I just can't sleep with her next to me.
Touching. I love the explicit description of her, "lovely in a way you could hold next to you and cherish as warm and human." Sometimes we need to elaborate cliches so they mean something again.
@Galen: Thanks! If I could only edit, though, I think I'd lop off the "and cherish… human." But, yes, it's always fun to try to inject a little life into clichés. Or a little collagen. Or botox.
I actually like those rambling specifications. They narrow the terms while adding a feeling of luxury to the words, a "we have time to amplify our meaning." Very Isak Dinesen of you :)
I agree with Galen. A+!
On the whole, I prefer augmented triads.