moonlight stirring blinds over closed windows. there is no air conditioning to speak of. a fan stands motionless in the room. the night air is stagnant, still. nothing could have stirred the blinds so. you swing your legs out from under a sea of sheets when you hear it. at first it seems to be a slight buzzing. but quickly you realise it is emanating from the night sky. from your window you can hear everything more clearly. your name being called, aloft, from a full and friendly moon. her breath moving through the window's glass, slowly stirring your blinds.
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