#56 maybe?

a short story on the softness of love, cruelty of fate & distance, sweet temptation of hope, etc

You have just come home from work, unlocking and relocking the front door. I can tell that it is you by the jingle of the little bell dangling from your keychain. A reminder of our time with sweet little Tinku, whose tiny paws this apartment so dearly misses. I love that you still carry around a little bit of her everywhere you go.

Light from the living room makes its way to the bedroom, carrying your shadow with it. You dump your bags on the sofa and make straight for our bedroom, where I lay motionless, in the dark, merely another lumpy something over the bed covers. I had been tired all evening, but I don’t sleep that well when you are not beside me.

Brushing my hair aside, you plant a soft kiss near my temple. “Hey, Bee!” Your whispered greeting tickles my ear, while your coffee-scented kiss fills me with glowing warmth.

This is what it must be to feel at home, I think to myself. Something so soft and beautiful that I am so terrified of losing.