I’ve come to know how you fall asleep. First, you move your body into mine, fitting curves into corresponding curves, draping your arm across my ribs, tickling my back with your fingertips. You close your eyes, and with each exhale, you sink into me, the weight of the day slipping off of your shoulders. Your breaths become more even, your lungs taking in quiet sips of air. Your muscles twitch, causing your fingers to suddenly curl and uncurl, or your leg to jerk slightly. And then suddenly, you are asleep. I can turn over and you will not stir. Or I can kiss your forehead. Or write this. Right now, in fact, your face is pressed into my shoulder, and your open palm is against the dip of my spine. Our legs are entangled and your hair is in my face.

I wish every night could be like this.