Monday with M.

Another waking up, the slow longing of blankets and fickle pillows here and there (one flung itself from the bed but won't tell me why), the blinds pressing against each other again, blindly.

On the next street over, the daycare lets the children out to run and scream. My sleepy mind wanders to the kitchen, remembering there's no espresso, then wanders back, remembers there's no you, then lays down again to talk to pillows.

Later, through the rain, lunch with M.

M. the one-man conga line, sheet lightening, lemonade without sugar, then sometimes sugar, throw-your-head-back laughter, damn the espresso.

The kind of man who makes you forget a week of rain and takes the edge of your grump and snark. The kind of man you'll forgive for cheering you up on Monday.