“It’s pouring outside. Do you have to go to work?”
“Of course I have to go to work. I need to make money.”
“Just stay a little longer,” she said, putting her head on his chest.
It wasn’t the first time he had heard the rain pounding against the window, relentless, as if crying for help, demanding entry into the warmth of the interior, but it was the first time he had ever felt it in his blood.
Love.
I remember when this was an option…the freedom to ask for that extra 1/2 hour (or so)
this was as sleepy and warm as I imagine those two are in that bed.
Lovely.
This one, both photo and story – SO evocative … Thx Neil!