ABSTRACT
Sometimes, just once in a while, when we’re perched at each end of the sofa, pecking away at the dinner on our plates, watching the news on telly, I’ll look over at Mark without him noticing. He’ll have this content expression on his face and it’s like I see all of him in those moments. I see him and can even picture him as a wee boy sitting in exactly the same position with his back straight and his knees together, chewing his food in the same neat, precise way he eats. I see him and feel how much he deserves to be loved, and I love him. In those moments I get such a warm, protective, feeling towards him that it actually brings tears to my eyes. It’s beautiful.
