I hear him slide open his drawers. It’s cute that he thinks he’s not waking me up. I’m already up. I’ve been up. I just keep my eyes closed.

I stay in bed.

He wants to listen to one of the true crime podcasts and I can’t decide if that’s a symptom of poor parenting or just a curious mind.

Five out of five.

That story.

But what else can I do?

From the window: gray skies, green grass, gray squirrels dancing in the trees.

Hopefully, they are as excited about learning how to trap as I am about teaching them how to trap.

“The morning after our fifth date, he stood in the kitchen, shirtless, bathed in the clean light of summer morning. Aaron glowed gold. I traced the muscles of his back with my fingertips before wrapping my arms around his waist, resting my head in the space between his shoulder blades, and watching the prairie grasses dip in the wind.”

It’s what I must do.