The way he always turns to look at me before going to bed, lying side by side facing each other. Most times not speaking a single word, just looking at me intently in the dark, until I break the moment due to my own awkwardness.
The way he lets me sleep in even though he has to go to work, all because I look really peaceful in my sleep, and he doesn’t want to break that serenity. All the times when he’ll ask if I slept well, then going on to tell me if he had a good night.
The way he brushes my hair off my face that afternoon, while having lunch at The Cathay. It is also the same day when he mentions that I look really peaceful in my sleep, tells me about his flight back toCanada
We parted ways the way we always do, as if it’s any other day. But that might just be the last time I’ll ever see him. I wanted to snap a picture of him during lunch because I wish to have a picture which is exclusively mine, as a keepsake, but I didn’t.
It will always be a sweet secret of mine, those pictures I drew of him from memory. The image of his sleeping face, the way he lays face down on the bed with the sheets up to his waist. The scent of his apartment, the scent of him.
That particular morning, he looks exceptionally young. The way he paces around the space between the common room and kitchen, as he always does when he's on the phone, and the way he puts a hand on his hip and twirls his hair with the other. The way he likes to cover himself up to his neck under the covers.
His secret peck on my cheek on the eve of his birthday, when I took him out to dinner at Al Forno Trattoria. That was when I know that he likes buffalo cheese, and had the first taste of it.
His favourite Italian restaurant, Ricciotti, at Riverwalk. His favourite Ricciotti salad, with the bitter tasting rucola, crispy bacon, tasty grilled bell pepper, excellent smoked scarmoza cheese and extra virgin olive oil. And of course, his favourite San Pellegrino sparkling water. Recently he has a craze for Pepper Lunch. I wonder what’s next.
He stocks more drinks in his fridge than food. Marigold Apple, MarigoldOrange
The way he snuggles me, and the way he feels around my arm when I do the snuggling. The way he’ll stay still when I climb to his side of the bed and act as the man, cuddling him from behind and asking him things which he usually asks me. He doesn’t like it but I made him do it, saying that role reversal is good and that he should give up control once in a while.
The way he’s learnt to mimic me, and saying “Ohhh, I’m not going to say anything about that.” when I demand that I do not have a squeaky voice.
The way he plays with my ring at Loof, while I was on the phone. The way he runs his hand up and down my back at Crazy Elephant, when we went to meet his friends. The way he lets me rest my chin on his shoulder at the bar along Duxton Road. The night at Alley Bar when he lets me put lip balm on his lips, and wears my red wooden square beads necklace, just because I’m intoxicated and pouts a lot.
The way he holds me in his arm and cradles me on his crossed legs when I cried. The way he hugs me on top of him and let my tears soak his pillow.
The way he includes smiley " :) " at the end of his sentences in text messages. The way he says "hey" in a breathy soft tone when he picks up the phone. The way he puts on his t-shirts, dress shirts, trousers, cuff links, socks and shoes. The way he applies deodorant and perfume. The way he uses Q-tips for his ears after showers.
The way he frowns while he tries to formulate trades and draws invisible sequences in the air. The way he parades in his new purchases, and when he's trying to decide what to wear. The way his eyes sometimes looks green or brown. The way he stands behind me while we're both facing the mirror, telling me that I'm beautiful. The way he helps adjusts the leg straps of my Halloween costumes because I couldn't see them.
The way he always places a bottle of water on the dressing table for me. The way he places a towel on the washing machine for me. His blue shirt which I always wear. The way he arranges the sheets on his bed.
The way he's amused by the different nicknames I call him by. The nickname he gave me; pipsqueak, and the league which he places me in. The way he says "Don't mess with me."
The way he says "What am I going to do when Elise leaves?" The way he says my name.
The way that he just is.
The way he lets me sleep in even though he has to go to work, all because I look really peaceful in my sleep, and he doesn’t want to break that serenity. All the times when he’ll ask if I slept well, then going on to tell me if he had a good night.
The way he brushes my hair off my face that afternoon, while having lunch at The Cathay. It is also the same day when he mentions that I look really peaceful in my sleep, tells me about his flight back to
We parted ways the way we always do, as if it’s any other day. But that might just be the last time I’ll ever see him. I wanted to snap a picture of him during lunch because I wish to have a picture which is exclusively mine, as a keepsake, but I didn’t.
It will always be a sweet secret of mine, those pictures I drew of him from memory. The image of his sleeping face, the way he lays face down on the bed with the sheets up to his waist. The scent of his apartment, the scent of him.
That particular morning, he looks exceptionally young. The way he paces around the space between the common room and kitchen, as he always does when he's on the phone, and the way he puts a hand on his hip and twirls his hair with the other. The way he likes to cover himself up to his neck under the covers.
His secret peck on my cheek on the eve of his birthday, when I took him out to dinner at Al Forno Trattoria. That was when I know that he likes buffalo cheese, and had the first taste of it.
His favourite Italian restaurant, Ricciotti, at Riverwalk. His favourite Ricciotti salad, with the bitter tasting rucola, crispy bacon, tasty grilled bell pepper, excellent smoked scarmoza cheese and extra virgin olive oil. And of course, his favourite San Pellegrino sparkling water. Recently he has a craze for Pepper Lunch. I wonder what’s next.
He stocks more drinks in his fridge than food. Marigold Apple, Marigold
The way he snuggles me, and the way he feels around my arm when I do the snuggling. The way he’ll stay still when I climb to his side of the bed and act as the man, cuddling him from behind and asking him things which he usually asks me. He doesn’t like it but I made him do it, saying that role reversal is good and that he should give up control once in a while.
The way he’s learnt to mimic me, and saying “Ohhh, I’m not going to say anything about that.” when I demand that I do not have a squeaky voice.
The way he plays with my ring at Loof, while I was on the phone. The way he runs his hand up and down my back at Crazy Elephant, when we went to meet his friends. The way he lets me rest my chin on his shoulder at the bar along Duxton Road. The night at Alley Bar when he lets me put lip balm on his lips, and wears my red wooden square beads necklace, just because I’m intoxicated and pouts a lot.
The way he holds me in his arm and cradles me on his crossed legs when I cried. The way he hugs me on top of him and let my tears soak his pillow.
The way he includes smiley " :) " at the end of his sentences in text messages. The way he says "hey" in a breathy soft tone when he picks up the phone. The way he puts on his t-shirts, dress shirts, trousers, cuff links, socks and shoes. The way he applies deodorant and perfume. The way he uses Q-tips for his ears after showers.
The way he frowns while he tries to formulate trades and draws invisible sequences in the air. The way he parades in his new purchases, and when he's trying to decide what to wear. The way his eyes sometimes looks green or brown. The way he stands behind me while we're both facing the mirror, telling me that I'm beautiful. The way he helps adjusts the leg straps of my Halloween costumes because I couldn't see them.
The way he always places a bottle of water on the dressing table for me. The way he places a towel on the washing machine for me. His blue shirt which I always wear. The way he arranges the sheets on his bed.
The way he's amused by the different nicknames I call him by. The nickname he gave me; pipsqueak, and the league which he places me in. The way he says "Don't mess with me."
The way he says "What am I going to do when Elise leaves?" The way he says my name.
The way that he just is.
