Your favorite memory is a Thursday night, three forty-two in the morning when he reaches for you. It’s a lazy arm, heavy with sleep. It leans over your shoulder where you lay on your side, back curled up against his chest. This arm falls sleepily across your body, and he subconsciously pulls you closer. You wake to his heavy breathing, still deep in dreams. You close your eyes and sigh, taking comfort in the fact that even without his mind, his body still knows you, loves you, yearns for you. And you drift to sleep again with ease.

You do not know it now, but you will appreciate this moment later. You will remember it, months from now. You will quiet your mind and float back to that bedroom. And you will be thankful for those moments, those easy moments–two souls held together by a lazy arm and thin, cotton sheets.