We land on the sofa, our scrabble game from the night before still set up on the coffee table in front of us, real scrabble this time. Sitting here, fitting into the curve of his body, fitting into the curve of his life, he brushes my curly hair from my face and leaves a kiss on my temple. As I turn up to him, my nose grazes his chin. His head resting back against the sofa, eyes closed, beginning to drift off.
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