We don’t make love in the shower.
Instead I just hold him.
For a moment it was as it was, as it use to be.
We were together. I was his support.
I was the one holding him up, keeping him safe.
Water dripped down his cheeks, over his bare shoulders, down
his chest.
The warmth of my touch, and the warmth of the shower seemed
to relax him.
I held him close, my skin against him.
I craved this closeness.
We kissed, and let it linger.
For a brief moment it was perfect.
Then Bella started screaming.
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