As they lay there in the nest of blankets he studied the constellations on her back, lost in that dark nights wonders in the lamp light. Her chopped feathery hair, her angular shoulders, her sloping back and narrow waist.

The air above them was frigid and frost had formed on the door and windows, but the high sides of their blanket nest kept them warm as they curled up there together. The fire on the other side of the room was burning low, producing almost no light at all, only occasionally would it spark back up.
His arm came round those bony shoulders and drew them to him, her night sky back firm against his chest, soft and smooth. He felt her smile, and there he held her, their heads on the same pillow and the same stars in their sleepy eyes, which now closed, leaving the fire and the lamp alone.

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