found via jessgn
I loved his shoulder. Every time we sat next to each other, his shoulder was always in the corner of my eye like a boulder, a shadowy block that obstructed the sunset. I felt a crick grow in my neck and a strain that made my shoulders sore. And his shoulders looked so sturdy, so calm against the moving skies; I wanted to lean into it, rest my tired head while we sat still. I was a broken metronome failing to move to the beat, stuck on one end, but it was the good end. He moved into closer and I didn't have to struggle at all. Like a scoop to a spoon, a cheek in a palm, I closed my eyes and rested exactly where I wanted to be.
