Phantom

Her fingers ran down the empty bed, her fingers delicately plucking the air, playing a harp that only she could hear. A phantom laid in her bed, keeping her up, restless, craving. She could the almost magic that happened, how two people could lay in bed hugging one another, as if they were stuck on a twin-sized mattress instead of a queen, then wind up on opposite sides, the blanket pulled unevenly.
She tried to sit up, but she had sunken into her bed, buried under comforters, her head too nestled into the pillow to bother to pull up. She remained laying with the lingering sense of lonliness. Her arm rested on her mid-section, she became acutely aware that holding the hand holding her was the safest feeling in the world, yet she was only there to hold herself. Ignoring the phantom, she closed her eyes, 'I am alone and I am fine.' She repeated in her head. Repeating it more than three times, she felt worse, having to justify her own lonliness in the night - the phantom would chuckle - served only to make her realize how alone she truly was. No one could comfort her, only herself, and only poorly. She took a deep breath in, then breathed out, once, twice, until she felt calm.
When she woke up in the morning, the had the blanket all to herself and the knowledge that even if she was alone, there was still a phantom that kept her company, even if he never meant to.