One of My Shirts

Kami's wearing one of my shirts like how they do in the movies. I always wanted a girl that would just know to do that. She's gotta get up, get some water, lounge around, and she grabs one of my button-ups. I didn't build it up too much in my mind either. It's just how I wanted it to be.

We make a short transition from the bed to the couch. Something tells me it's gonna be a lazy day. It doesn't feel lazy with her though, not by a long shot. Being lazy is time misspent, and next to her on this couch it just isn't happening. Kind of weird to be thinking thoughts like that. Back in high school if you ever told me I'd feel this way and be saying these things I don't know how long it'd be before I'd stop laughing.

We don't watch any show for more than a few minutes. Kami keep changing the channel, resting her head on my shoulder, leaning up against me in my plaid. We go from Sunday preacher, to kid's cartoon, to a nice Italian woman making pasta. Old westerns and telenovelas, some man all dressed up like a ghoul. I look outside and the snow's coming down.

I put my hand on her head. I stretch out my fingers and draw them back, massaging. She relaxes even more, somehow it's possible. Her arms gets tighter around my stomach. She's breathing heavily. Snow's falling. I'm as happy as a guy can be until she tells me we should break up.

I can't wear that shirt anymore. I can't throw it out. I keep it in the hamper. I wash it whenever I'm washing clothes. I don't know what I'm hoping for. Hoping for it to get ripped. Hoping for it to get lost. Hoping it'll fade and fade, until it's something new.