Cat couldn’t sleep. The red digits of the bedside clock shone brightly in the darkness: 1:30 AM. The neighborhood had quieted down hours ago and its residents were no doubt peacefully asleep in their beds. But rather than lulling her to slumber, the eerie silence only kept her awake, increasing her awareness to the smallest and most insignificant of sounds, such as the building settling down, or the brush of a leaf against the glass door.
Her boyfriend, Ben, slept beside her. He anxiously grunted something about a goat - sleep-talking fueled by unpleasant dreams - then snuggled himself deeper into the blanket. The sight made Cat smile. They had been together for more than six months, but unlike the emotionally distant university guys that she usually dated, Ben stayed with her even after sex.
She couldn’t explain exactly what was it that made her smile when she looked at him. Was it his blue eyes? His unruly hair? Perhaps it was his morbid fear of goats.
The bizarre phobia had its roots in an odd event from Ben’s childhood that years of therapy had not been able to erase. When Ben was five, he’d been in the barn feeding the goats. His father, not realizing he was inside locked him in.
When they found him shivering in the morning, he said he’d met the devil himself. For a child of his young age, such an event was certainly scary - traumatizing.
Many years after, he still felt as if sometimes the goat from the barn was pursuing him. Cat burst out laughing each time he mentioned it.
Cat reflected that sometimes it was the quirks that most connect us to loved ones. These were the details that made them real. Unique. Nobody would list “fear of goats” on a dating profile, but in context it was endearing. It was Ben’s quirk. Only his.
“Not the goats, trainer…” Ben grunted once more and threw his hands towards an invisible enemy in his sleep.
Slowly, Catherine climbed out of the bed, careful not to jostle him. As she opened the door to the terrace, she undid the black ribbon she wore and released her long brown hair to fall across her lacy red bra. Although it was late September, the night was still warm. Stars gleamed in the clear sky and moonlight shone brightly on the city center.
Cat sat on the wooden rocking chair and stared silently into the sky. After a few minutes, sleep overtook her.
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
Cat woke to the familiar voice. Her eyes blinked open and she welcomed Ben with the widest morning yawn ever.
He leaned against the doorframe, wearing only his blue boxers, and his rebellious brown hair sticking out in every direction. The visible parts of his body were well-muscled: Ben was an athlete, so being in good shape was as natural to him as breathing. The boxers were snug against his hips, outlining the hidden parts and leaving little to the imagination.
Ben inhaled deeply, stretching his arms. His chest muscles tightened as he leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on Cat’s forehead.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons. Any unsourced images and writing are my own.