He sat in darkness in a hotel chair in the hour of the wolf. He'd been sitting for hours, fighting with the mythical wolf. There was no vodka to keep the animal at bay and he could feel its claws pulling at his heart.

The moonlight shone through the cracks in the drapes, illuminating the parts of her not covered by bed sheets. Unlike his restless spirit, she was in a deep slumber for the last few hours. Sleep came almost as quickly as she had. It was the first time they'd made love that night, but one of a thousand times over the years. They'd been off and on since they were little more than children. For this most recent round they weren't officially a couple. "Friends with benefits", she said. He let out a mirthless chuckle at the thought. Where was the benefit? He was a de facto boyfriend, while she readily declared her freedom.

Her distance was familiar. He had loved her to some degree or another since he was a boy. But he wasn't a boy anymore and grew weary of the emotional tug o'war. He loved her, but couldn't help but feel that he was little more than a convenience to her. His was the hand she held when she didn't want to feel so alone. His arms wrapped around her when she was sad. His bed was what she craved when she wanted to feel like a woman. She called him when she needed a bit of maintenance at her house or when she needed someone to drive 2 hours at 4 in the morning to take her to the airport. It sure sounded like a relationship! But that was it. Just those moments and silence in between.

This trip was supposed to be different. At least he thought so. A drive down to Florida for the weekend. A nice hotel with an indoor pool. Some sightseeing. And yes, definitely lots of sex. That last one didn't end up happening... not the way he expected anyway. They'd only made love once the whole trip. Thus far the vacation had been more grief than pleasure. Well... for him anyway. She'd had a blast, taking photo after photo with strangers and posting them all to social media. This was pretty normal behavior for her.

He began scrolling through her facebook posts. She had been travelling a lot lately, constantly announcing to the world that "YES! SHE! WAS! SINGLE!". Thousands of photos with hundreds of people, whether they be strangers or a few lifelong friends. The one thing you wouldn't see in all of them is him. In truth, the casual observer of said social media would be inclined to think she went on a solo trip, rather than being whisked away by her lover. The thought was sobering, and he choked back the feeling. He was unsure if it was pain, sadness or rage billowing up from his chest, but he pushed it down, down where it would add to the heart attack he'd probably have some day.

As he looked through her most recent posts, he came across one from that night. They'd been walking around downtown and were quite tired and hungry. He found a place nearby that looked amazing. It was more expensive than he could really afford for one meal, but they were hungry and he wanted steak. They sat at the bar to avoid the wait. The bartender introduced himself. Goods was his name... and he lived up to it. Quick with a joke and to light up your smoke and all that. Indeed, if he'd had a piano they'd have voted for him in for Mayor.

The man gave her a couple of free drinks and she flirted with him. She took a photo of the two of them together and posted it on facebook, declaring her desire to take him home. The post was in jest, but the bit of cuckoldry against him still cut. In this particular instance it probably wasn't even an intended sleight. It was much worse than that. She never even stopped to consider that joking about taking another man into her bed right in front of him was cruel. It was as if he wasn't there. But of course he wasn't. If it didn't happen on social media, it didn't happen at all.

That's the way it was with her. Death by a thousand cuts. It started on the ride into town. He'd asked her for the millionth time in their lives to be ready when he got there. Instead, they left 45 minutes late, wading through weekend traffic on the interstate. Worse still, she was in a foul mood. In fairness, it wasn't as if he wasn't prepared for it. He knew her better than she ever gave him credit for. In all their years together, there had never been that new relationship smell. It was as if they were an old married couple from the day they met.

The ride was miserable. She complained about how much she hated his taste in music and kept hitting the "skip" button without even a consideration for him. She barked about how hungry she was, conveniently ignorant of the fact that they would've been closer to a restaurant had she not been so tardy.

Later during the drive, he'd told her about the art market he was signing up for. It was a big deal to him, his first time selling his photography. She interrupted him to talk about a man she befriended in New York. He was an "award-winning" photographer with his own studio and had asked her to fly out and attend his art showing as a personal guest. And that was it. Another reminder that someone better was out there waiting for her. No further discussion about what mattered to him. She never really cared much about his photography. Once, he'd sent a lovely photo of her from a night out together. To his surprise, she made it her profile picture. The praise came pouring in, but she never bothered to mention who had taken it. To the world, it could just as easily been a stranger with a cell phone rather than her lover, the professional photographer. But then, he didn't exist, did he?

The thought was interrupted by the sound of her snoring. It didn't bother him. He could easily sleep through her constant nasal orchestra. In truth, he slept much better when she was next to him. On the nights she wasn't there, his bed felt empty. Sometimes he couldn't sleep at all, like her ghost was shaking him every time he dosed off.

He stared at her, glistening in moonlight. He could imagine the feeling of her soft skin on the tips of his fingers. He could smell her scent and taste her skin. It was rarely far from his thoughts. The arousal came as it usually did and he considered taking her once again, throwing off her coverings and ravaging her like an animal. She always welcomed the bit of rough. The sex was never a problem with them. In fact the one thing she always praised him for was his conduct in bed... well, that and his cooking. One night, as they lay naked and embraced after she had sampled both, she told him he had everything he needed to please a woman. This was the part he loved most. Not the praise... or the sex, though he was very much a fan of both. No, it was the afterglow. The tenderness. It was the only time she ever let him in to see her vulnerability. Sometimes she'd ask what he loved about her and he would tell her, like a foolish boy. But in all that time, she never told him why he had her love. Or if.

Tears overwhelmed him. As did shame. He didn't know what he was more ashamed of, being a grown man crying in darkness, his desperate clinging to a childish desire or that in spite of it all he just wanted to lay beside her and put it off for another day. "I can't keep doing this." he thought. He was getting too old to play her Winnie the Pooh, waiting for Christopher Robin to toss him aside and fade from existence. He deserved better than that. For all his flaws, he was a good man. Why couldn't she see that?

The tears came harder this time. He tried to choke them back, but they wouldn't be denied. Holding together a broken heart is like holding back the tide.

"Come to bed..." she beckoned.

The certainty of her post-coital slumber was now in doubt and he bit his lip. Silently as possible, he wondered if she'd heard him crying. He wiped the embarrassment from his face and did his best to shake it off. His resolve wavered and faltered as she pulled the sheets off of her as tribute. In the corner of his eye he could see the wolf shaking its head in disgust before turning away from him. It was as if to say "Go on then, if that is what you want. Your fate would have been far more merciful between my maw."

He knew it was true. It wouldn't solve anything. But... "She wants me." he thought. And maybe he was wrong? Overreacting? Maybe...

He rose from the chair and lay beside her. "Mmm ...thaaat's better." she sighed sweetly. He put his arm around her and clutched her left breast, nuzzling her neck and taking in her scent. After all, what was the harm? The wolf's hour was up... for a while at least. And he could put off a broken heart for a little while longer.