I blearily looked at the sheet next to me. Chris’ spot was taken by Panda, whose cocked head and plastic eyes gazed blankly into the dark.

“OK, so,” I began, shifting onto my shoulder, a little girl about to reveal her deepest secrets. “You’ve got ventricles in the brain. They’re lined by simple cuboidal epithelium.” Panda gave me silent approval. “It’s where the cerebrospinal fluid flows. Once it hits the fourth ventricle, the fluid exits through holes, called foraminae, which introduce it into the subarachnoid space.” Panda remained silent. Presumably I was correct, because he said nothing.

I paused, considering my next recitation of neuroanatomy. In the silence, I fingered Chris’ blue dress shirt, Panda’s and my companion in bed while Chris vacationed in Mexico. I had remained home because my spring break wasn’t for another two weeks. In his absence, I’d become desperate for company and overworked with neurology.

My nose brushed the collar and I inhaled the scent. I giggled, pulling the collar closer as though pulling my lover on top for a romp. Considerately, Panda did not look over; his body remained still against Chris’ pillow while I lost my mind.

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