I laid down on his bed and listened to his calm breathing. This was the first time I felt comfortable and at ease lying next to him here in his own bed. I used to be terrified of this situation. I barely remember the good feeling of being close to him, of having his warm body next to me. All I could remember up until now was the fear of anyone seeing us together. Especially because it only happened when he sneaked into the y room next door.
Why do our pasts usually feel like they only happened the day before? Is it because we treasure every minute of it, we reminisced, and we barely noticed it’s been a long time? If so, then memories do have the power to imprison a person.
I put the strand of hair off his forehead and stared at him sleeping soundly. I wonder why he chose to sleep instea
