I am next to him in bed. He is reading his book. I am reading mine. His book looks boring. I decide this as I am peering over his shoulder instead of at the pages I wish he were reading with me. My book is better. I tell him that as I vie for his attention, “I am sorry I keep bothering you. I just wish you were in this story with me.”
If he is annoyed he doesn’t show it. His face is kind under the glow of amber light that is helping his book while mine is in shade. He is closer to the lamp and so I am closer to him. There is barely enough light for us together. I don’t mention it as I am enjoying further reason to snuggle.