snapshot
Last night we mock-danced to Damien Rice while waiting for chocolate chip cookies to come out of the oven. They would emerge in minutes: hot, heartwarming, soft in the middle. But until they did, I was watching us mirrored in the kitchen window; I was squinting at the two figures clasped delicately together, the tenderness crisp and clear against the dusk-darkened glass, and thinking, what the hell is this feeling?