Her hair right out of the shower was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The natural way it curled around her temples, leaving mountains and valleys on her head as she tried to slick it back. The way the brush would smooth out the knots and leave perfect ringlets he just had to run his fingers over. The way the wet hair guided his finger down to the end of the spiral only to lead him back up again. But better yet, the way he would leave her for work only to arrive and find a piece of her hair on his jacket, or coat like a letter she had left for him to remind him of their love. And the way he was constantly getting wrapped in those loose hairs that would fall as she went about her day. They would wind themselves through his toes as he slept, curled with her in his arms. Or the way he could pluck them out of the shaggy carpet. These hairs were a promise. A promise to never leave because you could always find a piece of her hair if only you looked hard enough.
December 23, 2012