She would smile. That’s the first thing she always does, when she sees me. That upward turn of her lips, ever so slight, but her eyes don’t lie. She is always happy to see me. Even when we fought on the phone or text, she would always smile when she sees me again.
I asked her why once, fingers tangled in her brown hair. She turned around and kissed me, a peck on the chin and said, “Because you remind me that my world, my life, is perfect,” I would have asked her how, then. But our limbs were getting distracted by other things.
She gives me this feeling that I belonged in this world. I told her once that her smile gave that feeling to me. She retorted, “Well, you don’t have to smile to do that to me,” I wasn’t sure why, but I sobbed, no, cried openly into her arms and bosom that night.
I once told her earnestly that I always felt extremely lucky to have her. She poohed it and said that everyone is lucky. And didn’t she have me to give purpose to her life as well? “Well,” she says, “I guess we are both lucky to have each other then?”
And then she smiled.
Image credit: Paradise Trance Youtube channel