Though the restaurant clanged with morning hubbub, and though the booth’s curved back was an awkward spot for stretching out, I drowsed off knowing this: It is indeed a privilege to sleep next to someone as they sleep.
Two hours later we awoke, covered in creamer and salsa. In one fist I clutched a fork that still had a shred of omelet dangling from the end; in the other hand I held my co-sleeper’s forearm against my chest.
Two Sleepy People
