“Do you love me?”
She doesn’t answer; won’t look me in the eye.
“I’ve tried! I want to do better, but I often don’t feel like it!”
She glances over, back again.
“I fed you. We went to the gym together. Remember that movie we watched?”
“I remember. You were laughing as much as I was. I saw you.”
The ceiling now holds her gaze, as she heaves a heavy sigh. I catch a few tears in my peripheral vision.
“Okay,” I relent. I reach over; our fingers touch.
Finally, I meet her deep, hopeful gaze.
“I’m sorry,” we say, then smile.