I feel most beautiful when my hair is haphazardly thrown into a French barrette, my pajamas are loose, and my scented lotion on.

I couldn't tell how much of my usual actions tonight of quickly twisting my hair, or picking which scent to wear, were influenced by my love for me or you.

I gently pulled the frontmost curls from the barrette and clasped on a delicate necklace in my vanity mirror. I selected the small, expensive bottle from my collection to melt into my hands, wrists, and clavicles.

I would never leave the house without this evening routine, and even though we're only crossing the street, I indulge in my reflection. It's the most I've loved myself all week.

I don't look to see if the lashes are perfectly parted, if the hair is tamed, if anything. I just take in my sights and scents,

and I secretly hope you do too.