Morning pillow talk

I woke up this morning and snuggled on River and started crying. I was thinking about something she recently wrote to a mutual friend. A few years ago she could see our relationship was dying. If we hadn’t had a family together she would have left. I told her about that and wanted to share what we said. A lot of the time it's not important who says what in our snippets of conversation. But this time it is. I'm talking first here. “The same friend asked me what I feared the most about our relationship, and I said fucking it up. If that kind of thing happens again, let me know.” “I will. Of course. I don’t think that kind of thing could happen again.” “I almost messed it up with my first antidepressant experience. You had to put up with a lot of shit. I’m your number one stressor.” “But we came out of it a lot stronger.” “I love you.” “I love you.”

I don’t really want to dilute that one, but what came next was too good to pass up: “You felt so amazing snuggling on me last night. Warm and toasty. Fitting nicely to me. A nice shape. Me in my dreamy sleepy state. I was angling for our old stick-in, face-to-face, but when you rolled over I eventually thought I’d take advantage of things. In my dreamy sleepy state. How’s your butthole?” “Fine.” “I love you.” “I love you.”