Life and Other Inconveniences

by Kristan Higgins

I opened the door. Riley was sprawled like a starfish on her back, sound asleep, and I crawled into the king-size bed and looked at her. Those perfect lips, so red and curved, open a little, as she was a mouth-breather when sleeping. The space between her front teeth I loved so much. Her freckles . . . When she was little and they began to pop up, I’d kiss each new little speck and tell her it tasted like cinnamon or chocolate. I loved the smell of her, a little salt, a little morning breath, her citrusy shampoo.