…I felt this tension, a tension so dynamic until my dreams meshed into the current hour. I tossed and turned with little comfort. I needed a release but no outlet was apparent. My thoughts grew painful, and my body’s thermometer excelled. I grabbed my notepad and its designated pen, expecting instant gratification; but for the first time in over 5 years, it failed me. I slid into my plush, therapeutic robe to take a stroll around my kitchen and living room, discussing my irreconcilable thoughts amongst myself. Once again, I failed. I tip-toed back into the bedroom, as not to awake my silently sleeping partner, whose dreams appear to be as tranquil as the thoughts of a newborn baby. I sat motionless on my side of the bed, pondering the possible root of my restlessness. As I sat with my head resting in my shaking hands, my prominent pulse could be felt in new places—a pulse so strong that it vibrated the mattress. I removed the robe from my vacant flesh and resumed my original position in the bed, lying my body up against my husband’s scalding back with my hand resting on his hip. Noticeably, his pulse had grown stronger than mine yet maintained the same rhythm. We were on one accord, revealing the same yearn. Suddenly, I was restless no more as he was now…awake.