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July 5, 2015
I'm in the kitchen getting the coffee ready. I hear you puttering around in the bedroom. It's my favorite sound in the mornings. You often catch me smiling to myself by the time you come into the kitchen, you ask why I'm smiling and I say, "Nothing, good morning." You raise an eyebrow, and it's my favorite thing, too. Because I know you don't believe that it's nothing. I don't know why I can't tell you the little things now. I reckon they are the ones that will give away my big feelings. And they're so big they scare me.