All at once the missing her, the needing her, becomes too much, and I don’t care anymore why she hasn’t come. I close the door behind us, kick off my shoes, strip down to my underlayers, and climb into the bath beside her. She doesn’t even ask what I’m doing. Just unfolds, enough to crawl into my arms. She curls into me, the same way she always used to do. And even though we kissed little more than a month ago, I know that this is different. I keep my eyes on the top of her damp head and my arms around her waist and shins. Mindful, too, of burns.
