Sex. Is me lying on the floor. Hearing the heavy breathing above me. The tremble in each inhale. Then exhale. Hearing the almost silent squeak of that one spring in the bed. Not exactly a steady rhythm. The inability to tell who's on top. The imagination tosses around a few ideas. There is no cresendo. No great peak. No amazing climax. Just wavering breaths. And a final squeak.
Afterwards I contemplate faking sleep or laughing. I laugh out loud at myself for even thinking that. The two are startled by my sudden outburst. Possibly forgetting that I was even there.