He looked at her.
She looked at him.
The bite marks above the blanket. The dark circles. The blanket held closed with both hands around the body he had spent five hours learning at the molecular level. The body carrying his child behind the white cotton.
His mouth opened.
The words were there.
'You came to me. You kissed me first, in the car, and I have the memory of which hand you used and where you placed it. '
'You sat on my cock in the bathtub on your own and then you said 'prove it' and then you kissed my forehead.'
'You said you hated me twelve times and none of them sounded like what they said.'
The words were there.
They did not come out.
