“I’m so unsure—” she hesitates. “We don’t joke and that worries me.”
“It’s not fun, is it?” he adds.
“No—” She holds. “—I’m sorry. I feel bad. I was the one who wanted this and now I’m not so sure—”
“Don’t be,” he cuts her off, knowing how fast his own mind can change. “These things happen. I feel the same.”
“You’re so sensitive,” she admits. “We don’t have that—”
“Playfulness?”
“Yes. You’ve felt the same?”
“Often.”
They wait. Their eyes cross on the ceiling, both separately searching for an answer that isn't there.
“Let’s go to sleep,” she concludes, closing her eyes. “I love you,” she adds, expectantly.
“I love you too,” he returns, letting his tired eyes close.
Uneasily, they fall asleep, wondering with each slowing breath
as
they
go.
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