Steppenwolf Awakes

Steppenwolf Awakes

By Jack Stone

 

He was awake; sort of, just back from a middle of the night piss, lying in the cool, without the covers for a moment.  The middle of the night, the hours when your thoughts are mean lonely old wolves, wandering the wintry windy cold steppes of your soul.  These are the times when such things are decided, the times when her hand could be a warm caress, or a cold inquisitorial probe.  He came a little more fully awake as he rose from the tangle of sheets and pillows that was her side. Her hand touched lightly, and old long deadened reflexes twitched. He was awake enough to feel a muscle that makes the corners of your mouth twitch just a little. The hand lightly brushed his chest and moved over to feel the underside of his ribs, below an arm stretched out overhead.

“I knew you had your arms up, I could smell it” came from behind a wall of pillows and the huge sighing roll over, as the sheet and comforter adjustment flowed.  He lay for a second alone, again the wolf stopped, sat up and looked up at eternity, in the jet black steppe sky and howled. He decided, “maybe it’s time”.

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