Every night I fall asleep looking at my wife. Sometimes I run my thumb softly, gently, over her cheek, so as not to wake her. Sometimes I whisper, “I love you” into her ear, hoping she’ll hear it in her sleep and smile. She did once.
Some nights, I only look at her for a minute before my eyelids close, encouraged by my waiting dreams.
The first night I didn’t fall asleep looking at my wife’s face, I knew something was wrong. That night, my wife fell asleep facing the wall. That was the beginning of the end of everything.