Interlude

He is on his knees in front of me, his face pressed tightly against my stomach, tightly into the soft fleece of my favorite sweatshirt. His arms are tight around my waist- not clinging, exactly, but holding me like something precious while my fingers tangle in the silk of his hair. 

My heart is filling with love for him, right here in my half-cleaned kitchen with its cold tile floor beneath his knees.