My husband went to the supermarket

cotton of his T-shirt.

He puts his phone down. “What’s that for?”

“For being you,” I whisper.

“Good,” he says, pulling me closer. “I was planning on being me again tomorrow.”

We both laugh softly in the dark. Outside, the world goes on—cars pass, wind moves through the trees, someone’s dog barks in the distance.

But here, in this moment, it’s just us.

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