My Side of the Bed

by Bob Jacobs

Come to think of it, I don't think I'd ever seen a ginger hair close up before. This one was on the pillow on my side of the bed when I got back from a business trip. The hair screamed at me and made me jump. I can't ask her yet. I lie awake at night worrying, and in the silence and the darkness the memory of the hair is like a monster that hides under the bed. When I fall asleep I dream that I'm outside in the rain, looking in through the window, and she's squealing with delight beneath a giant orangutan that's wearing my socks.

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Bob Jacobs likes to lie motionless on his back, whistling and staring at clouds. He lives in the southeast of England.