I picture us making breakfast with one or both of us wearing the marks from the night before
with flour spilling all over the counter as his hands find my hips and his lips find my neck
I picture us laughing as I tell him to stop distracting me, pretending to be mad, but the smile obvious on my face
I see him leaning against the counter as I pour batter into the pan
but he doesn't like pancakes
and you can't do very many cute things with eggs
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