"Good book?" He at first does not respond, a crust of toast dangling from his fingers his mind obviously elsewhere. I stare at him expectantly knowing that at some point he'll realize I've said anything.
"Sorry what?"
"Book. Good?"
"Mmhmm." He hadn't looked up at all as his eyes continued to read. A smile comes across my face. It must be good. He only gets this way when a book is interesting and his writing is going well. His concentrated brown eyes, his solemn expression. I know then that the remainder of his breakfast will not be eaten.
I know this man well. My best friend. My lover. My man. My head has laid in the crook of his neck thousands of time. Legs trembled at the anticipation of his touch almost every night for years. I have run to him again and again knowing whatever was wrong would be made right. I look at him and realize that I still am as in love with him as I was when we started this journey. More actually. The years of marriage hadn't dampened the spark. We were still ripping off one another's clothes. Still talking all night. Still laughing. Oh yes there were fights. There were hard times. There were worries. But we managed through them all. Our love always carried us through, even when thoughts of homicide flashed ever so briefly in our minds.
I get up and clear our dishes from the table taking his egg clinging dish away from him. He again doesn't look up but as I turn he briefly squeezes my ass. My blood turns hot. I set the dishes in the sink and see that he is grinning. I walk to his chair and slide it from the table. He continues to read like nothing is happening. Still smiling though. I take his book and lay it on the table.
"Baby. I was reading that"
"You're done." I sink into his lap straddling him. We goofily grin at one another as we embrace.
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