Anton watched his lover 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. His 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. Anton touched his hair just to watch him stir and turn over, feeling a faint pang of emotion as he watched him so innocently sleep. Was it the heat or the wine that made him a bit lovesick for this soft puppy of a man in his bed? Anton sighed and turned toward the window, closing his eyes on the ten foot tall sign that read “amour” outside his window. The feeling in Anton’s chest subsided and he closed his heart, once again, on love.