Her Phone at Fourteen Percent

she fell asleep before she finished the sentence. something about her mom, the thing on saturday, and then just nothing, the phone still loose in her hand, screen going dark on a half-typed reply she'll send in the morning and pretend she wrote awake. i should turn the lamp off. i keep not doing it. the charger cable is on my side, an arm's reach, and i'm not plugging her phone in, because if i move she'll wake up a little and apologize for falling asleep on me, and i don't want the apology. i want this. her breathing doing the slow thing. her foot already cold and pushed under my leg like it lives there.

i used to fall asleep with the phone on my chest, scrolling til it dropped on my face. i don't remember when that stopped. somewhere in here it stopped. her battery's at fourteen percent and dropping and i'm just watching the little number go down instead of mine for once, and that's the whole thought, that's it. fourteen. thirteen. i'll plug it in eventually. not yet.