She watched him sleep, leaving the bed momentarily to open the window and let in the warm night air. The buzz of neon from the bar sign downstairs was soothing, vaguely reminiscent of crickets in grass; it lent white noise and a pale pink glow to the room. Her lover du jour slept heavily, his skin still glistening from the exertion of their urgent and intoxicated fucking, his heavy lower lip slack and glossy as he snored softly. She touched his hair just to watch him stir and turn over, feeling a faint pang of emotion as he so innocently slept. Was it the heat or the wine that made her a bit lovesick for this soft puppy of a man in her bed? She sighed and turned toward the window, closing her eyes on the ten foot tall sign that read “amour” outside her window. The feeling in her chest subsided and she closed her heart, once again, on love.