Roll over. Stretch.
Good morning my foggy reality.

Look to my right. Handsome as ever.
A peck on the cheek soft enough to make room for a smile.
The sheet flies over. Legs hit the floor.
There goes one after the other into my morning ritual.

Wipe the fog from the mirror.
Two parallel lines and a crescent moon as a good morning to myself.
A pair of jeans and a shirt. My limbs taking turns dressing themselves.

One after the other, once again.
The kitchen’s hardwood floor already warm with someone’s embrace.
One after the other, tracing his.
Coffee?
Coffee. And him.
Leaning against the counter with a cup in hand.

This morning is no different.