Unattached narratives

Charlie makes the same face every time they tell a joke they know they probably shouldn’t. They shift their jaw a tiny bit to the left, their eyes to the right. They start to crack a smile, intermittently, but it doesn’t poke through easily. They don’t let anyone know they think they’re funny. But they know. They’ve made this face a lot lately, they seem lighter; they seem fuller. I could watch the same face and hear the same corny joke every day for the rest of my life, and laugh like it was new. I could watch them smile until my eyes burned out. I wanted this to be unattached but I feel their joy in my chest, and I’m so thankful for that. I’m so thankful for this.