We weren't doing very much. I felt uncomfortable with the idea that being completely comfortable was okay. I was in your shirt because I would have had to wear my tomorrow **** that night if yours weren't given to me. I remember smelling it as soon as you have it to me, wanting to remember what you could smell like as people who run into our lives are temporal, and you were someone I wanted to keep. At one point I was afraid that what you were told could maybe change your mind on how you instinctively felt for me.
Rolling around in bed, trying to sleep, but at the same time just basking myself in a comfortability that I could get used to. "Do you have toast?" I asked at 4 in the morning just because I was already thing about what I could watch you make for me.
It's funny how the warmth of someone else's skin makes you feel so at home, but being in your own shell makes you feel so alone. I felt like I've known you for years, but in reality it's only the first time we've seen each other.
He took me with him on the way to work so that I could be dropped off and get along to what I need to do. We didn't have toast, I want worried. For once I felt like it would be okay for me to leave my toothbrush by the sink and know that there was a place for it, and I could come back.
