Morning

Her father had words of wisdom.

"You always have a choice, darling... It's just whether or not you choose to see it.” For love is that which enables choice, always stronger than fear.

She was wearing a loose sweatshirt barely covering her inviting lingerie, loose enough to reveal one side of her shoulder and hiding the other. An ivory beige apron twirling and draping. Her socks were cute. It was a stumble, a dream. He never expected anything from her, but the gestures were always nice. She loved to cook and clean, especially moreso when she was happy and in love. But as much as she enjoyed it, he did as well. For a clean house created a relaxing environment, comfortable when things got out of hand, and a well cooked meal meant that the time/ effort was put into experience for growth.

He walked up from behind and held her in his arms, kissing the back of her neck from behind. "Good morning", she said noticing him. She turned around as he leaned her against the counter top, holding her close, “good morning", he said in a slow transition toward her lips.

"Smells amazing”

“Let me do the dishes today", he said kissing her.