I start to rise but then I look over at your peaceful sleep. I focus on your resting lashes, how they seem so perfectly in place. I wonder where you are. A childhood home with your mom making spaghetti, or a bicycle ride in Tunisia, or visiting the Louvre trying to figure out the meaning of life through the coy smile of the Mona Lisa? Am I with you?
I wonder. I wonder. I wonder. For all of time, I wonder.
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