I walk into the kitchen one morning. You are sitting at the island with coffee and a bagel. You’re looking through emails on your phone.
You’re sulking. You have family trip this weekend that we are going on, and you didn’t want to attend. I’ve been patient; I’ve let you have your space, but this has dragged on long enough.
I walk deliberately to the other side of the island.
“You need to lay out whatever you want packed for the trip this weekend,” I tell you calmly.
“I’ll pack,” you tell me irritably. I nod nonchalantly.
I casually open a drawer on the island and pull out a silk hair tie. I carefully pull my hair into a ponytail while you return your attention to your phone. I open another drawer and pull out cloth napkin, and I walk around the island to stand in front of you.
I place one hands your shoulder and the other on the back of your head. I kiss you deeply and slowly. I place one hand on your jaw, dragging out the last few seconds of the kiss.