I sit here, flipping through The Time Traveler’s Wife and marveling at the prose, my cold toes stuck under your warm bum and fingers tangled in your messy hair. Your head rests on my shoulder as you catch up with Raw and Smackdown for the week, feet up on the table, but only till I realize and glare at you. Occasionally, a couple of the roasted peanuts in your paws find their into my mouth, but not before I get poked in the cheek with them a couple of times – you have eyes for no one but Goldberg. I get to the part where Henry describes Clare and I sigh, look over at you, you who is now obsessing over Edge.
The silence is broken only by the occasional cheer from the crowd in your phone and the plaintive meows of Fudge who seems to have missed us more than he’d like to admit (much to my delight – I like being needed). The word companionable floats around in my head.
After a while, we start a sentence at the same time, stop talking, wait for the other person to talk, and then burst out laughing together. If we had a rupee for every time we did this, we’d be richer than the Ambanis, won’t we? Maybe couples who live together do start picking up mannerisms and habits, along with being in a constant state of relative sync, attunement.
Maybe it is just you and I.
Still smiling, you wrap me up in a bear hug and squeeze, not knowing that these hugs may just be my favorite-st part of our relationship, but knowing full well that it relieves my back pain. Then, while you start off on a long rant about the dumbass in your office that you love to hate, I take out my cherry blossom cream and moisturize the dehydration away from your size ten feet.
This is us.
Polar opposites chiseling bits off the sharp edges to fit.
P.S: Word to the wise, I'm doing a spot of writing elsewhere as well, so I'll probably be re-posting from there quite a bit over a period.