- buster... The morning sun was on her skin. There was a buttery smoothness to it. The tiny almost translucent hairs on her arms were a delicate army marching towards me at daybreak. Insomnia woke me an hour or so before dawn most days and I would lay in bed, Jo tucked into my arm pit, her head and hand on my chest, purring in her sleep. I would lay there as still as a finished note just staring into the darkness, thinking as the day crept in through the shades. I would sometimes imagine that we were a pair of survivors of the apocalypse floating on a raft under a squalorous sky. How could I save us? I would make plans. - buster I know you’re awake. - maybe I’m awake. Jo tapped me on the chest with her index finger. The tiniest gesture. She was sleepy and it was too early for my games. - don’t. - ok, I’m sorry. I’m awake, beautiful, tell me things. - I can’t. - what do you mean? - I can’t. - Jo, I don’t understand. - buster, I have to go. I have to go.