( my brachiosaurus hand likes your stegosaurus hand )
Last night I woke quite suddenly from dreaming because our breathing was in rhythm with each other. I laid there for a second, wondering if my awarness of it would make it stop. But there it was, perfect: his back expanding against my chest. Breathe in, breathe out.
“Jei,” I said, “Jei, wake up.”
“Ugh…wg..?”
“We are in sync with each other while we’re sleeping .”
Poor boy was trying to sleep, “I don’t understand?”
“Our breathing matches.”
“But doesn’t it always?”
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