Yeah, neither do I.
But maybe I'd get a good night's sleep if it would drop thirty degrees and the cold could just seep through my window and drip all over the blanket that's far too big for one. And when I grab my water bottle first thing in the morning like I always do, the stirring would wake you and you'd ask for a drink and be shocked at how cold the water was.
"I left the window open," I remind you.
"Why'd you do that?" you ask.
"So you'd have to stay close." You roll over and grunt.
"Asshole," you say, but I can hear your smile in your epithet.
I imagine that I leave first and that you stay an extra hour and leave a note on the bathroom mirror. It's just a drawing of a dinosaur beneath which you initial. And I can't think of a better thing to come home to.