Morning

She woke up next to me, gently and silently coming back from a world of perfection and into what she thinks is perfection. I keep my eyes closed and continue breathing shallow so she’ll think I’m asleep still. The truth is I’ve been awake for an hour.

She rolls over and puts a soft arm over my chest. She presses her body against mine, gently throws one leg half over me and snuggles her head in with mine. Her dark hair is wild and frizzy from the night. It tickles my neck and ear and nose but I don’t move. Her breath is warm on my neck and chest. It feels good to have her there against me.

I open my eyes and realize she’s not in bed anymore. I must have fallen asleep while pretending. I untangle myself from the sheets and head towards the bathroom to get a glass of water and wash my face. Dried sweat runs off my face and I taste the salt on my lips.

I hear a rattle from the kitchen while walking out of the bedroom. I find her standing over the stove top, cooking something in a skillet. I wrap my arms around her waist and kiss her softly on the neck. She presses herself backwards into me. The cool air around me seems to drift away as her skin presses against my stomach and chest, her hands slowly running down my arms and finally resting with fingers intertwined.

“Kiss me again,” she delicately pines, never looking up from the skillet. I do.