You don’t like sleeping with the fan on or the overbearing sound it makes. I’m trying to recall if you’ve ever complained about it. Maybe once? We always sleep with the fan on. Nine nights out of ten, I fall asleep before you do. Half asleep, my hands, they always reach out to hold you. You said my hands moved seamlessly while we sat in the backseat of a car once. So, you don’t notice as you watch your movie, but they touch you, desperate. Like a young lost girl looking for her parents at a crowded fair; And at dawn when sometimes my nightmares keep me up, I curl up and you hold me like a newborn. Breathing in my ear, a little too loud. After work, I sit down on the sofa and watch your shadow play on the tiled floor while you fold the laundry.
I think that the rice is not always well made. The daal sometimes burns. On bad days or good – You tell me it’s the most delicious meal you’ve had. Disclaimer: I do not like soccer, I am sorry, I don’t know enough about it. So, while I watch a silly old Netflix show on my laptop, you watch your game on your iPad – on mute. In traffic, when we stop at the red light your fingers find mine – they are always so cold yet the warmest ones I’ve ever held. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sweat. Love might have one syllable but your laughter has two. There are only so many things in the world worth loving. Your head slightly leans towards my shoulders – and I swear I fall weak in my knees. Sometimes, you fall asleep before I do. Yet the dreams reach me before they reach you. I dream when I am awake. I dream of you.
