Peace
Right now, of all the words in any language, the one wich could describe them better is ‘peace’. In a lazy Sunday morning, Faraize wakes up first, legs tangled in Boris’, just like they were last night. He doesn’t bother putting glasses on, not now. The sun peeks through the window, it’s light not too bright, just enough to light their clothes that were remaining in the carpet, making Faraize remember last night and smile, getting closer to Boris, who was still asleep. The only sound that catches Faraize’s ears are the birds singing outside their house. Their house. It doesn’t matter for how long they’ve been together, that tingling feeling in their young lover’s hearts never seems to cease and probably never will. It’s one of those conections you read about in love poems. One of those that you sometimes doubt it really exists. Faraize just look at Boris’ peaceful sleeping expression with adoring eyes and goes back to sleep, because he knew when he’d woke up again, everything would still be in peace.