I sat beside him long ago when the brush of his sleeve against mine sent fire all down my body.
I sat beside him hundreds of times when his arm was solid and comforting against my own.
I sat beside him when there was such pain between us I shied away from the softest touch of his coat.
I hope to sit beside him when we are old, when his shoulder is no longer distinct from mine, but we are sitting there together melded without thinking into one.
I…LOVE…THIS!! I hope to no longer look on something so ordinary as something just “ordinary”.
This is perfect.