Him.
I walk on the trail. I see the snow on the ground and my breath in front of me. I feel his arms wrap around me and the relief that my collapses in to. I look up to see the green of his jacket and his chin scratchy against my forehead.
I know
Him.
I dance in the kitchen. I see the room that we have and how we are planning to use every inch of it. I feel his hand at the small of my back and the purpose and strength that it carries with it. I look up to the ceiling and see him laughing down back at me.
I know
Him.
I sit at the table. I see the meal made in front of me, my favorite. I feel his foot underneath mine and the way that it feels so familiar for it to be on top of his. I look up from my phone taking a picture and see his smile wide and proud.
I know
Him.
I curl up in the passengers seat. I see the key in the ignition, attached to the chain that confuses me. I feel the cotton of his shirt pressing against my cheek and his hand on my leg. I look up while my head rests on his shoulder and see how the sun shines between his sunglasses lens and cheekbone.
I know
Him.
I lay in bed. I see the room that I am so familiar with, the one I call my own. I feel his body against mine and the warmth between us. I look up from where my head rest on his collarbone and see how the sea blue eyes look back to me.
I know
Him.
