You got up early today, or earlier than you normally would on a Saturday, to feed the neighbors' cats while they're on vacation. I watched you grab their newspaper afterwards, and come back home to us with it clutched underneath your arm. You were wearing an old morning robe, stained from escapades in hair dye, over sweatpants and pink plastic slippers. You were still waking up; the worst of the heatwave is over, for now, so the morning was cool, but the sun still shines. And you scrunched up your face, as if the light caressing your hair came with a foul smell.
When you came back up, you had cat hair all over your palms, and the cuffs of your sweats. You said good morning to an equally sleepy dog, and then you decided to water the new basil plant on the windowsill. It's shabbat--which means that you didn't do it because you felt that you had to, but because it seemed like something beautiful and relaxing to do. And as you moved to the bathroom to fill up the watering can, your robe fell open just so, and the warmth of the morning sun lingered on your skin, and I caught myself thinking,
What bliss to be here with you.
About the Creator
Hysteria
31, he/it, born and raised (mostly) in Germany - I like talking about my language and having as much fun with it as possible! It is very silly. Our long words are merely the beginning of it all.
more: https://400amtag.wordpress.com/links/


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