Misaki wakes up to me practically laying on top of her. She glances at her clock. 8:38 A.M, No alarm. She jolts upright, pushing me off the bed, but then breathes a sigh of relief as she realizes it’s Saturday. No class. Misaki helps me back on to the bed, then she goes into the kitchen. She comes back 5 minutes later with a hot cup of coffee ㅡ only one, I don’t drink the stuff. We cuddle up and catch the end of the morning news together; there was a segment on Japanese poetry, haikus and tankas, that made her smile. Afterwards we turn the TV off and she gazes around the room, barely big enough to fit her bed and dresser. Despite the size of the apartment, we are happy. Size never bothered us. I try to take up as little room as possible.

At noon, Misaki gets dressed for work, a black shirt with golden arches that, despite its small size, is still too large for her tiny, fragile figure. She packs another uniform in her bag for her second job. I’m sad to see her go. She won’t be back until late tonight. I wish I could go with her; I wouldn’t mind waiting for her long shifts to be over. She makes me so happy, I just want to be around her. The door closes behind her and I sit on the bed in the small, silent apartment that, despite it’s cluttered space, feels empty. I wait for her return. I think about what we will do when she comes back. Maybe she’ll come home with that ramen she loves from the place down the street. She manages to spill some on me every time we eat together. Then maybe we’ll curl up on the couch and watch her favorite movie for the 6th time this month. Maybe she’ll fall asleep from exhaustion like she does most evenings with me comforting her throughout the night.

Misaki returns at 11:26 p.m. I’m so happy to see her. She came in the door with a paper bag full of food. She pulls me close and I feel her warmth, so comforting, so safe. “I can’t wait to get in bed with you tonight” she says. I can’t wait either, but I don’t say that. She eats her dinner, messy ramen. Then she showers and gets ready for bed; getting me wet as she shakes out her long, messy  black hair in an attempt to dry it. She lays down softly into bed. She throws me on top of her, and we embrace, enjoying each others warmth. She tosses and turns in bed for a while, grabbing and tugging at me while trying to get comfortable. She breathes in deeply, inhaling my comforting scent, and, eventually, slips into sleep; and while I lay awake, holding her resting body, I cannot help but care for her. I wish I could do more to help her, to comfort her, to support her. But I cannot, I am just a blanket.