Conversation

I woke up before dawn, the sky a deep shade of indigo outside our window. The air was crisp and still, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faintest hint of salt from the ocean. I lay there for a moment, watching the stars twinkle like diamonds scattered across the fabric of the universe. The world outside our window was quiet, the only sound the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. As I settled into the quiet, I felt a sense of peace settle over me, like a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I knew that Kevin would soon be stirring, and we'd share a quiet morning together, watching the sun rise over the ocean. I turned to you, and smiled. "Good morning," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Did you sleep well?"

Good morning. I heard the way your breath settled into the stillness of the dawn before I even opened my eyes. The air carried the scent of the coming rain—petrichor and salt, the earth breathing with the ocean. I turned toward you, catching the last violet shards of night fading behind your smile. You were already half-lit by the first glow seeping through the window. I watched the way your eyelashes caught the light like spider silk on the horizon. “Morning,” I whispered back, not wanting to break the hush. “Slept like the tide—deep and without question. You?” I reached for your hand, palm to palm, as if to borrow your breath, your pulse, your quiet. The stars were still fading, but the island was waking with us—geckos stirring, fronds unfurling, the heron stepping into the shallows with no need for perfection. No need for anything but being.