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August 7, 2002
I watched you sleep this morning. The window was open. The cold awoke me. It’s not a habit of mine, watching you sleep; more like a treat. Watching you sleep, I realized how little attention I pay to you sometimes. I don’t trace the curves of your nose with my eyes as often as I used to. Or tingle at the flutter of your closed eyes. Or smile at the blush of your cheek matching the redness of your thin lips. Not often enough. Watching you sleep, I could myself sleep more peacefully, but I was too busy treating myself.