1/6/2020 – The day begins before dawn. It begins in my dreams; we live together, awash in the pale golden light of love. We glide through our cottage, the air thick with domesticity and desire. Birds dine on sunflower seeds on our kitchen windowsill. They’re singing and chirping, making bird noises that you translate for me as our coffee brews.

I wake, tentative. I snuggle in my cocoon, Francy purring under the quilt. I turn to you, my hips and legs moving carefully as not to disturb the cat, and I reach out to pull you closer.

It’s 3:30 am and Australia is no longer burning. Rain falls gently over the ashes, washing the pain away. It’s peaceful in Shiraz, the early morning streets bustling with chadored housewives buying fresh naan for breakfast.

But there is no you there; no solid, warm flesh to grab. No snores and slowly blinking eyes awakening. No soft belly and no tender nipples. I listen to my heart flutter and skip, beating my dreams away and sending them to rest, until the daytime passes and I can dream again.