You stand outside, watching the sun rise. It’s early enough that the neighborhood hasn’t started to wake; only a few birds sing welcome. I join you, coming through the patio door in time to see you shiver, slightly, in the cool air. From behind I wrap a blanket around your shoulders, my arms around your sides. Our breath steams in intricate clouds as we watch the light spread.
The clouds will come soon. The cars, the smog. Cell phones and business appointments. Perhaps we will fight – today, another day. It will come. Arguments and recriminations, changing lives and differing goals. One day, we will look back and wonder how we became so far apart when we were so close.
But now. Now, you shiver, and I hold you close. Now, it is just you and I, and the morning sun.
And for now, it is enough.