Pigtailed Lollipop
Pigtailed Lollipop
The rain traced silver paths down the windowpane, a quiet symphony for the two of us adrift in the lamplight's soft glow. His breathing was a steady, calming rhythm against the frantic beat of my own heart as I watched him sleep, the book he’d been reading still resting open on his chest. I carefully shifted closer, the old sofa cushions sighing beneath my weight, and the faint, familiar scent of his soap and worn cotton filled the space between us. The warmth radiating from his arm, so near my own, felt like a silent invitation, a gravity I could no longer resist. Slowly, I let my head come to rest against his shoulder, a tremor running through me at the profound solidity I found there. A soft sigh escaped his lips, not of wakefulness, but of deep contentment, and his hand moved instinctively to gently cover mine. In that suspended moment, the complicated world outside melted away, leaving only this pure, aching tenderness. My eyes fluttered closed, listening to the dual cadence of our breaths slowly falling into sync. It was a sanctuary built not on words, but on shared, unspoken understanding and this fragile, breathtaking trust. I let the feeling carry me away, safe and utterly complete in the quiet harbor of his presence.
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