This is a snapshot a wish I could have taken:

I.

Your brown shoulders arched above the valley of your smooth neck;  your skin is shimmering with tiny white hairs smoothed like far away wheat. Your chin is resting against my chest and my fingers are in your hair.

II.

Your hand resting against my thigh as we drive through the dark redwoods. My elbow leaned against the center console, and Mishka's face, soft with sleep, propped in the intersection of our arms.