fake:

she was asleep when he came in. curled up, turn toward the wall, hair half covering her face.

he stood in the doorway. the pale blue nightlight fanned up from the floor, brushing the cieling.

two nights ago he stood there, watching her sleep, and ran his hand up the doorsill.

he got a splinter. it was still dug deep into him. he made a fist and felt it with the side of his thumb.

she stretched, just a little bit, enough for the covers to shift, enough to show half her back, her shoulderblades pushing out, tilted, the valley between them smooth and pale.