Morning

Dream I had a few nights back:

I stumbled past him into the bathroom, rubbing my eyes as they stung and filled with water. “Why are we awake?” I flipped down the toilet lid and flopped onto it in denial that I was no longer tucked away in bed.

 

He paused shaving, turning from the mirror and cracked a smile at me. “I have a meeting. You didn’t have to get up.” He looked me with a mixture of pity and and gratitude.

 

I yawned, stretching my arms. “But you hate mornings even more than I do.” I smiled back as he continued shaving.  

 

Slowly gathering my coordination I stood and walked over to him. I swaggered up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, my hands sliding over his fuzzy bathrobe. I leaned my head against the back of his shoulder and closed my eyes. The lights over the mirror glared against my eyelids and I fought back, feeling sleepish as I listened to his heart beat. He finished shaving, leaning forward to wash off his face. I didn’t let him go. He toweled off and turned his head back toward mine, reaching his hand back to caress my hair.

 

“Sweet thing.” I still had my eyes shut, but I knew he was smiling. I could feel it as I held him and hear it in his voice. “You don’t stop to think of yourself. Just me. What am I going to do with you?” He lifted my arms from around him and gently turned inside of them, nestling my head against his chest. “There, there.” He pulled his arms around me. “You can go back to sleep. It’s not like I’d require you to be up and dressed in your finest at this ungodly hour.”

 

I smiled, still with my eyes closed, chuckling to myself. “Yeah, it’s just so hard for you to look pristine. You just have to do so much to walk out of your bathroom in the morning looking like a Greek god.”

 

“You flatter me.”

 

“No, I just tell the truth in the style of Homer.”

 

“I just would have married a girl who reads the classics.”

 

“Sucks for you.”
“Does not. Wouldn’t have it any other way. I am a writer after all.”

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