The heavy night air stuck to my flesh, making sleep impossible. I had lain awake in the bed, watching the moonlight shadows measure time across the floor. Beside me, my wife dozed fitfully - tossing, turning, muttering, mumbling. Eventually I gave in.

I went to the window, letting the breeze peel the sweat from my body, enjoying the relief. But I was till tired and wanted to sleep.

My wife stirred. "Come back to bed. I miss you." Her body glowed invitingly.

"Alright," I said. "For you."

I returned to the embrace of clammy sheets and soiled pillows, and prayed for oblivion.