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I never said it out loud, but I liked having the bed to myself in the mornings, to stretch my legs and feel the cold, silk sheets against my skin. Those first few moments of silence to start the day-- relaxed, at peace, alone. But I craved his smile and I knew where to find it.

The light in that old apartment took my breath away. It filled up every last corner of the place, bouncing off the countertops and glass cupboards. And there he was, his back to me, stretching his long arms over his head. Humidity clouding up the windows, the image a bit blurry, but the ocean a bright, infinite blue ahead.

I joined him outside, coffee in hand. He squinted as he looked up at me and smiled a good morning. It was barely 9 AM, but the balcony floor burned my feet. I took my place beside him and there we sat, looking out at the immense blue, the entire summer open before us. We loved a lazy morning in after a long night of driving. 

I thought of last night, glimpses of road in the dark as we drove past middle-of-nowhere bars, dark gas stations, and fast food chains. There was a girl sitting in the parking lot at the McDonald's off Lincoln, and our eyes met as she took a slow drag of her cigarette. I told him not to stop, to keep driving. It was what we did best: we'd drive and sit in silence, or turn the music on and roll the windows down, and talk and talk and talk and laugh and listen. 

This morning it was time for silence again, the ocean glimmering with the hope that this weekend would last more than two days, because we needed it-- to get away, to be together, after everything that had happened. 


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