Cushions and blankets collapse into each other. My mint green sheets are tangled elegantly within themselves, weaving along my mattress like vines. I lay down, stretching across its threshold, which always seems to welcome me with an open embrace. I wrap my arms around the floral print duvet, jumping into the waves of fabric. It is soft and warm and tender. I take in the scent of laundry and of sweat. I take in the presence of rest and of loneliness, the lacking possibility of intimacy. Closing my eyes, I choose to forget the spaces that are unfilled in this crashing sea.