A Rhythm Older Than Words
Sometimes you just know... I watch her from where I pause as I enter the room. The way the late afternoon sun slants across her back, catching in the fine hairs along her shoulders. She is washing dishes at the sink, the slow, deliberate movement of her hands hypnotic. I step forward, noiselessly, and slide my arms around her waist. She does not startle. She has always known when I am near. "The water's warm," she murmurs, leaning back against me....
