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So I walk over and put my hand on the small of his back as he's hunched over, reading,
and he straightens up like my hands are cold and leans back, rests his head on my stomach.
He's looking up at me from what I think he feels is an entirely new angle,
and I think he's trying to get a whiff of my laundry soap without me catching him.
He looks like he's cold so I put my hands on his forearms to give him some warmth,
and he takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes like he's trying to forget something,
which he is,
because he closes his notebook and his eyes and warms his forehead on my belly
and smiles like paperwork is a myth and home office is a dirty word.

He gets up to make the tea, and I wash us a couple of mugs.

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