The way he texts me good morning every day. The way he leaves apple cores on his windowsill to feed the ants. The way he smiles and suddenly he looks ten years younger and five times more innocent. The way he buries his head in my side when he's tired. How he feeds stray cats and wild animals bits of his food no matter where we are. The way he'll pull me back and kiss my cheek if I don't want to leave. The scar on his right arm that he got from a dumpster but that's somehow really sexy. How he knows to sometimes open doors for me and that sometimes I just want to do it myself. He remembers that I love to write on rainy days and brings it up whenever it rains. I don't even remember telling him that about myself. His willingness to adopt a stray kitten we found in the street. His unbeatable logic. The way he misses a spot in the back of his head every time he cuts his own hair. His crooked bottom teeth that I hope he never fixes because it just suits him. How he refuses to kill even the smallest, creepiest critter, but will instead gently set it free. His nerdy obsession with anime. The way he won't give gifts for birthdays or Christmas but instead will randomly surprise me with a gift or experience that holds a lot of sentimental meaning or is something I would really enjoy. The way he values teaching a child the value of life and how it can't be replaced. His reluctance to try a new dish once he's established a favorite - no matter what restaurant. Except for burgers. He'll try any burger. Even bison. His obsession with toothpicks. And jalapenos. How he always gets whatever version of strawberry lemonade a restaurant offers. The way he uses his fingers to paint his masks instead of brushes. How he never, ever folds his clean laundry. The way I'll find bits of clay stuck to my clothes when I go home. His readiness to apologize if he thinks he's offended or hurt me. How he'll hold me down and tickle me until I can't breathe...and then blow raspberries on my belly. The way he lets me play with his earlobe when I'm bored. The way he repeats stories sometimes, as if he forgets that he's told them before. How he always takes at least twenty minutes to make up his mind what he wants to eat. And then changes it about four times. And then doesn't get anything to eat after all. Until an hour later. The way he's not afraid to admit to not knowing something. How he picked up on my habit of texting good night when he's going to go to sleep. The way he would get worried if I didn't text him to let him know I reached home okay. How he won't drink, even when a friend buys him a beer and puts it in his hand. His sarcasm. And wit. The way he'll go from tickling me to clutching me close and holding my hand.
I could probably go on, but it's one o'clock in the morning. What does the "o" stand for in o'clock?
I think I'll save anything else for a part 3.
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