Memoirs of a Fat Girl

It’s 3am on a Thursday, and I am lounging on top of my covers with Sandy. He is slowly playing with my hair, and I am sleepily tracing a finger down his arm.

This is the time that I like the best. We are busy people, he and I, and so this undisturbed moment is blissful.

“Hey, sexy.”

I love it when he says that. I buried my face in his neck. “Hey.”

“You know what?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m really glad you looked for me.”

Me too, me too, me too. My record has been stuck on Cloud Nine. “So am I.”

“Keep looking for me, okay?”

Oh, you beautiful man. There are almost no words. “Just keep wanting to be found.”

We wrapped our arms around each other, and stayed like that for a long time.