The Closest She Would Get

Slowly, she slips her sweatshirt back on over her head and pulls her sweatpants up her legs. She walks over to the bed and gently lays down, careful as to not disturb him. She takes all of him in this moment. She studies his serenity. The way his chest expands and collapses with each soft breath he takes, and the quiet snores that leave his slightly parted lips. The way the light from the television reflects off the softness of his face. The way his eyebrows occasionally twitch, causing her to wonder what he dreams of. Moments like these are everything to her. Taking him in during the calmest part of their day allows her to remember everything he means to her. They allow her to just see him as he is, to see him at his most vulnerable. He often put up such a tough front, she rarely got to see this. He tries so hard to maintain his masculinity, to be strong for the rest of the world. His walls almost never fall. This was the closest she would get.