@sunclothed continued from [ here ]
Some mornings it still surprises him: waking to the sounds and smells of another house, with her warmth beside him and the early sun tracking through the bedroom. He doesn’t open his eyes but he knows it’s sunny because he can feel it on his skin and over the bedsheets -- as warm as her hand. He doesn’t flinch away from its steady trail up towards his mouth anymore.
          “Hi,” he whispers into the kiss, turning his head just enough to press his lips to hers. Hi, instead of good morning. It seems to convey his surprise, like they both just happen to be there, like they hadn’t woken up in the very same way for the last four days in a row. He’s never been away from his own house this long, and he doesn’t worry about it.Â
