- There he stood at my door. In the rain and soaked. The expression on his face was apathetic and pleading for my forgiveness. He wanted me. He truly wanted me right then and there. Nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted. My bitter mood faded when I saw the redness in his eyes. Had he thought I wouldn’t, did he honestly believe the rain would hide his tears. I noticed. He only breathed, “Sorry,” as he shivered. Pulling him into the warmth of my dark house. I wrapped him in a dry embrace. That was when I noticed the time. How late it had been…or early…three in the morning. Neither of us has slept. With sympathy I lead him to the couch and told him to sit. Sauntering to the laundry room I grabbed a towel. Returning to him I handed him the soft ivory towel, then made my way across the dark living room into my room. Where I then grabbed the spare pair of clothing I almost threw out during the fight, I was glad I didn’t. Once he changed into the fresh dry clothing, I gave him a blanket. He pulled me in, with sad puppy eyes and clung to me like an child. He cried, and apologized over and over. The sincerity in his voice won me over, I believed him. I loved him. That night we slept together, in the most innocent of ways, under the single blanket, leaning on each other for support. The best sleep I’d ever have, was only going to be in his arms. I had then realized this.
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