When I’ve arrived at this conclusion, I let my head fall onto her shoulder—falteringly at first and then with abandon. My forehead drops to that intimate junction where her neck meets her shoulder, cradled in the space that seems perfectly designed for me, and for a second I just rest there. Just to listen to her breathe. Just to feel her warmth and the soft give of her skin, the tickle of her hair and the gentle rise and fall of her chest—all those things that tell me how alive she is.
