you are sitting on your bed with him on linens white but really they are kind of dirty and need a wash. he is in boxers and you are in whatever because three years in it doesn’t always matter what you wear every second. you have berries, raspberries, blackberries, and you have given him cheese and crackers to calm the dizziness of hunger after hours unsated. you eat in silence, the sun is bright and loud but the pale pink of your curtains keeps out the worst of it and yet the room still glows and glows around you, everything bright and airy. the window might be open, or it might not, but it might as well be, because the world is full of light and cannot be contained.
‘how do you eat berries?’ he breaks the silence to ask as he takes one and your mouth is full so it takes a minute but after a moment longer still ‘i’ve never really thought about it, i guess i squish them in my mouth. against my teeth sort of? how do you eat berries?’ ‘same, against the roof of my mouth.’ ‘right below the hollow?’ ‘yeah. i never understood how people could just bite into ice cream.’ ‘me neither’ you shiver at the thought but you are both smiling and nodding foolishly because it feels good to be three years in and still making these small discoveries – similarities between the two of you, small affirmations that thrill through you for a moment like it’s all new again, new and exciting. because it feels so good to be so quietly, quietly full of life.