City Made of Dreams

*is proud of her new journal. Polishes the simple yet shiny blue.*

*presents what she hopes is smuff, but feels that it might be just fluff, or nothing much of anything. But it does have Dromy and Ted in it, and absolutely no mention what so ever of anything sad or bad or mad (hee!) Feels proud of this, as it has never happened before. More may come, she shall try and purchace somemore pink candy floss to stuff her brain with*

***

There is something wondrous about waking up, turning over and finding the person you love lying right there beside you. A miraculous moment. And I don’t think it becomes any less marvellous just because you’ve done it every morning for the past six months. It’s the best, and hopefully the most lasting feeling in marriage. At least I think so.

 

Ted breaths more slowly than I do. I watch his chest rise…and fall, to a different rhythm than mine. I wonder if, as we grow older together, my breathing will fall into sync with his. Will we breathe as one?

 

Sometimes he snores. But now even that is beautiful. And it gives me an excuse to reach out and touch him. Shake his arm and watch him stir. He scrunches up his eyes before he opens them properly, squints in the light streaming through the crack in the curtains. Then turns to me and smiles slowly.

 

“G’ Morning dear.”

 

Then he leans over and kisses me softly. Champagne bubbles dance across my mind. And for one perfect moment everything is fabulous.
***