When he comes home, she’s half asleep on an empty couch. Her favorite show runs on TV, she hardly hears his keys turn in the lock. Shoes in hand, he’s on his toes, careful not to wake her up. He hangs his coat, grabs her glass and finishes a sandwich she has left for him. Resting next to her, he gently pulls her head onto his lap. He seems exhausted, melancholy in that way of his. She is too sleepy to open her eyes and ask how late it is.
“Is that when Perry loses his case?” He points the glass towards the screen. She nods her head and mumbles a yes. He loves the show, knows all her favorite scenes. She loves his scent surrounding her again, the silence that’s only comfortable with him. She feels his fingers drawing lines and circles on her skin. Perry’s voice a familiar soundtrack to their novelty routine. His fingers toy with her hair, her cheek, the lobe of her ear. “I missed you.” She feels he means much more than that. Her heart is pounding loudly in her chest. She knows she loves him, can’t bring herself to say the words. She pulls him down, her kiss is tender, resting her case with a gasp instead.