I woke up to bacon, coffee. In walked Julie with a tray for for a king. She set it across my lap as I sat up on the couch.
"What's this?" I asked.
"Birthday breakfast in bed"
"Yeah, but..." I eyed around to remind her of my previous night's arrangements.
"The fight has nothing to do with this. It's your birthday and I love you. Eat your breakfast. Eat your bacon." And with that she left the house, left me to feed myself on meat and dough and fresh squeezed juice, surrounded by so many twisted moments of our love.
No comments:
Post a Comment