perfect things

Pasta cooked just shy of al dente, then tossed in a bright, creamy sauce with sliced mushrooms. A well-paced novel unfolding over the course of several days, its characters dancing around me like newly found friends.

Watching the sunlight melt slowly into the grass as we lounge on a picnic blanket for an entire afternoon. The curve of your collarbone, the way it draws my lips down the length of your neck.

Perfect things, all of them, but none quite so perfect in life as they are in your absence. Memories recollected now, played back through my mind as I imagine your return and our creation of new perfect things.

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