From your belly by Lily McHugh
She lay in the bed with her eyes closed. Lifted one hand and fumbled around under the pillow to snooze her alarm, nine more minutes of sleep before it went off again. Never worth it but the same thing happened every day. Twenty-seven minutes later her eyes were open. Her chest felt heavy, as if something were sitting on her ribcage.
What’s up? No, nothing. He looked her dead in the eyes. She wriggled away, tucked her face into the crease of his armpit. His skin smelt musky and warm. Come on let’s go, lying here isn’t going to make you any less late. I know that face. The best thing to do now is get up, start the day. His breath was hot in her ear. He kissed her temples, left then right. Rested his hand on her milky chest. Her ribs were just visible beneath the surface. She took a deep breath but it stopped short on the exhale and came out in a shudder. Not like that, he said. Fill your lungs, from your belly.
He had been a swimmer when he was younger, used to play water polo. One day he ran out of clean boxers and put on his old speedos instead. Later, when they were getting ready for bed he unzipped his jeans and pulled them down to his ankles. She had forgotten about the day’s choice of underwear and started to laugh. He did a little dance, wiggled his hips and stuck out his behind. She laughed again, deeply, right from her belly.
Breathing came easier to him.
IMAGE SOURCES: BIODIVERSITY HERITAGE LIBRARY/FLICKR; CHRISTINA XU/FLICKR; EDITOR_TUPP/FLICKR; JASON BOLONSKI/FLICKR; KRISTINA DALEY/FLICKR; LA ANA/FLICKR; RICHARD PEARSON/FLICKR; XAVIER VERGEÉS/FLICKR.