She burrowed to be next to him
Under the torn quilt they had brought when they first got married,
Through the brown hairs left by the toy dog now barking at night at prey he couldn't attack,
Over the hollow place in the mattress that was never turned as often as it should have been.
She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed.
Career, finances, groceries, laundry, her role as mother
And as daughter.
The ideas tumbled noisily like lottery numbers in a plastic bin.
"I wish things could be like the first year we were married," she whispered,
Her head on his chest.
And she smiled with familiar contentment.
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