Tell Me A Story

“Tell me a story.”

 You smile.

I laugh.

You lay your head next to mine.

I lose myself for a moment,

staring at you.

Staring at your eyes,

your nose,

the skin between your eyebrows,

your lips, and smile, and cheeks

and finally your eyes one more time

before closing my own at last

to focus on the task assigned.

I’m thinking of a good story for you,

but you already know all of my good stories.

You’re in all of my good stories.

You already knew that, too.

Before you asked, I mean.

I tell you a story anyway.

“There was a girl

 and there was a boy

leading each other on a perfectly mundane adventure.”

“Oh good.”

Still, you smile.

“I was hoping you’d pick this one.”

Then, I take an excruciatingly long time with the details.


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