Aida Zabidi
I watch him sleep. 

He seems so peaceful, a peace that is seldom apparent in his waking moments. It is only when he is truly at rest that the worry seems to fall away from his face, in the soft light of the morning sun. He turns his face away from the rays of the sun to catch a few more moments of sleep as he sleepily reaches for my hand, seeking the familiar warmth even in these half-awake moments. 

There is something serene about watching him in his sleep with the steady rise and fall of his chest; being able to see a part of him that he seldom shows. It is a private moment between us, an intimacy that only those closest to him are privy to. It is a part of him away from the worries of the world in those short moments between sleep and arousal.

His eyes flutter open when he realizes that I am already awake. 

“Good morning,” he smiles, and my heart flutters in my chest the same way it does every morning when I see him wake up. 

Moments like this it feels like my emotions will overflow.
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