Hands clutching like otters holding each other so they don’t drift apart in their sleep. Legs interlaced around one another in the peaceful still of the night.

The room air is crisp on your face, but there is a warmth in your cores clinging together. There’s the calm glow of stars fading out of the window as the melody of songbirds begins to sound through the walls.

“What are they singing?”

“Whitney… No. That’s gotta be Aretha.”

A sleepy, slow peck on the cheek.

A lazy smile.

“Sorry. I’ve been meaning to shave.”

“No. Leave it.”

Her word is law. The beard stays.

As the sky turns into a dark blue and the world begins to wake up.

“Do we have to get up yet?”

“God. I hope not.”

But you’re scared to check the clock.

You can hear the coffee pot start to rumble, signaling the start of the day.

But not yet. There’s still time.

Gentle hands down necks and shoulders, soft palms but firm fingers working into the strips of rubber that hold all of humanity together.

The pieces of carbon that make up our bones from some distant star all supporting a glorified primate that futilely tries to mold the world in its image.

But not in this moment. Not now.