Committing This To Memory
The fear is itself consumed by an urge to climb the center console and curl up in her lap.
Beautiful Things
Soap bubbles collect at our feet. Her eyes remain closed as I touch her cheek and rest my forehead against hers.
Talk About It
Dawn breaks across the horizon and bleeds sunlight through my blinds. My house warms with the rising sun, fills with the smell of freshly brewed tea.