Luckily I was not in my own bed.

He has my keys. He's shooting a film, then weekending, then shooting another film. I won't see him for about two weeks, save his slipping into my apartment after a 15 hour day to nuzzle my face and spoon me with his cold little body. I'm a furnace at night, it's symbiotic.

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We move like this. He's made progress. Sometimes I feel like I'm ready. Then I don't again. Yet he still misses my smell. We describe each other in love terms: I love the way you smell, I love your back, I love the running commentary when you play my video games, I love your face when you sleep.

He adds his last name to the names I contemplate naming my kids.

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I want us to move like this.