His side presses against mine. I like how adamant he’s being about keeping our bodies touching in some way. He sets his backpack in front of him, reaching in to grab something else from the sleek, black bag. He pulls out a few marigolds. They’re a little smashed, maybe from the contents of whatever else he has in the bag. It doesn’t take away from their beauty. If anything, that in combination with the sheepish smile on his face makes me prefer them the way they are right now. “I found these this morning before we left. I wanted to give them to you before we headed out, but you were with
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