She told him to come closer, into her arms. The two of them, together, melted into the soft white of the couch, looking for early signs of light in the sky. Under his left cheek, he felt her heart beat in tiny pats, across his face and through his hands, where they rested over her heart. And from time to time, he'd lift his head up to adjust his glasses. He'd feel her sqeeze his body, - a sideways hug - muscles twitching in excitement.

And she wonders what's going on inside his head as his eyes begin to close and his body stretches out in the name of exhaustion. The times he buries his head in her hair, tells her it smells good.

These are not the typical memories that come so often, but the ones that are few and far between, so much, that sometimes they mean even more.