Sitting on the end of the bed, you strum a series of soft, slow chords on the acoustic guitar you bought last year. The open window lets in the constant chirp of contended crickets and the smell of a smokey summer bonfire. I turn the page of my book, take a sip of beer, catch your eye and feel as though I could melt into your gaze. Our lips meet, hands clasped, legs entwined; we sink into this ocean of sheets and downy feathers. It was just an ordinary June evening… and I wouldn’t have it any other way.