Kyrie was very curled facing me as I pulled myself away for the second night in a row. One of her arms was under my neck, the other clung to my thigh which had apparently ridden over her waist at some point.
I reached for my phone on the nightstand first, when I got free. Then I did something that may have been a final attempt to be caught. I held it up above us both with one hand while carefully pressing my forehead to hers and closing my eyes.
The camera function's usually soft click was as unnatural as could be to my enhanced hearing. And it didn't bother her. Her eyes remained closed and breathing normal.
I chose not to look at the photo I just took, knowing that the lighting was probably terrible. It didn't matter. For the first time, I felt like even a bad picture was good enough. I just began moving after that.
Like the vixen who always snuck out before dawn.
