“Can I refresh now?”, she said. A whiff of joy percolating inside me every time she says those words. 

It’s 4 am. I can’t sleep. Driven into the exhausting spirals that consume me, I’m watching her sleep. Innocence. She sleeps without a worry in the world, I will always envy her for that. Her upper lip arches above her lower lip. Her hair is messy, her palms sit together in each other, as if she’s praying. 

With a fear of accidentally waking her up I come outside and light a cigarette. The spirals, again. It’s been so long since I couldn’t sleep. I look forward to the morning, when she reads this.

The mornings where I kiss her, I look at her, hear her voice after a long, unnecessary pause for the night—(I have a perpetual wish of listening to her talk) 

To see her smile, hear her laugh. 

Through all the problems drowning me out, she holds my back and makes me float over them. 

If I’m conquered by the voices, if I’m worried about the future, if the health of closed one’s concerns me, if I’m thinking of jealous family members who are more dangerous than hateful enemies, she makes me stand in a spot on the street and asks me— “What do you want for lunch?”

And everything fades away as if she’s holding her sage in her hand, purifying my soul. Her beautiful stern face. I find myself mesmerised, in awe.

As if she hits refresh.