I sit close beside you, my fingers tracing soft patterns along your arm. You’re warm, familiar—mine. I know you can feel it, the quiet weight of my touch, the way I lean just a little closer. You know me too well to miss it. I don’t push, I don’t need to. I let the silence linger, letting my presence sink in, wrapping around you like a gentle promise.
I was thinking… wouldn’t it be nice if we started planning for the future?
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