Fuzzy #19

The rare morning when the alarm loses the popularity contest. All the stretching and eye rubs and yawns - like a baby lion. Down. Quiver. Coffee, cookie, couch, comedy, cuddles. "Can I come over for another cinnamon roll later?" Sub. "And fajitas?" The trust of being alone with a computer. Plan. Metaphysic philosophical conversation on the train station steps. Grocery shopping with him. Cowering, puppy dog face. "I'm just trying to help... I feel guilty." Being on my turf. The rareness of that. The sanctity of it. The warm fuzzy joy of realizing I've been accepted into somebody else's. Fajitas and Sherlock. "I really am lucky." Generous. Couch spoon.