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"Why do you smell like pancakes?" I lazily asked him when he stirred beside me. I woke up nuzzled against his right shoulder and for some reason, I could smell cinnamon and maple syrup. The sun hasn't fully risen yet, I could see the stretch of deep blue night skies making way for the sun over his slumped body.

"Is that your subtle way of asking me to get up and make breakfast now?" He answered. He then turned to me, eyes still closed, and laughed.

I didn't realize I have been staring at my now cold coffee far too long and my thoughts have drifted to those memories that have been tucked away for me to hopefully not remember. Most days, time flies as fast as I turn a book's pages. And I can't do anything about it.

***

I stretched my arms and legs after hours of much needed rest. I have been everywhere last week, the moment I sat on my bed, I succumbed to all the sleeplessness my soul has felt. I opened my eyes and waited for it to adjust to the darkness. Everything was pitch black. At the bottom of my bed, my phone buzzed and its screen lit up. My toes reached for it, my body contorting like some acrobat, my hands grasping, but still with as little movement as possible.

"I just fell asleep while eating tacos. What the hell! Are you home already?"
2:49 AM.

I chuckled. I stood up and realized I'm still in last night's clothes. I changed to my favorite tattered white shirt and boxers and made my way out the door. I typed my answer to his text message: "I'm hungry."

I didn't notice I had been standing in front of my fridge, bathed in its peeking soft yellow light, holding its door far too long until I felt a waft of cold air on my arms then a soft tap on the door.

"You're cold." was the only thing he said when he gave me a hug. I can feel him smiling even though I can't see it.

I held his hand. So warm.


(Artwork, titled I Can't Put It In Words, by Daniel Segrove)

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