two inches

In the middle of the night, Imogen awoke with the slightest of startles.  Her eyes opened wide and looked around but everything was silent and dark.  The warmth and slow breathing of the body next to her was her only proof that everything was still real ... time hadn't stopped after all.  Imogen moved her elbow a couple of inches until it touched Ren's back--until she was connected to the warmth--and slowly fell back asleep.

* * *

Ren and Imogen sat down on a park-side bench and unwrapped their sandwiches.  They ate quietly together and impartially surveyed the patrons of the park.  Ren, always the faster eater, gobbled down his sandwich in probably three bites, took a swig of tea like it was a flask of whiskey, and lit up a cigarette.  He eyed Imogen from the side and waited patiently for her to finish her tuna melt.  He hated tuna.

"Where did you go last night?" asked Ren.

Without looking his way, Imogen's brow furrowed and she continued chewing.  

"Whah ah you toggin' abouh?" she replied, mouth still full.

"I'm talking about in the middle of the night, I woke up and you weren't there."

Imogen swallowed her final bite and looked at Ren quizzically.  She remembered waking up.  She remembered Ren asleep next to her.  She didn't remember ever leaving the bed.

"You must have me mistaken with one of your other girlfriends," she riposted and smiled from the corner of her mouth.

"Uh huh.  No, but seriously, I could have sworn you left for part of the night."

"Maybe I did. I don't remember leaving, but that doesn't mean I didn't," Imogen offered.  Ren just stared at her for a moment, wondering if he was actually dating a sleepwalker.  "And no, I'm not a sleepwalker," she added.

Ren looked down in abashment and realized that his cigarette had turned into two inches of ash.  He flicked it away and dropped the subject.