the end of butterflies - by Sarah Wood - liminal space

everything I knew about love was wrong

Light drips down the floor-to-ceiling windows of our apartment. Across the courtyard, lights switch on like popcorn popping. I stand up from the dinner table and flip ours on too. The living room melts into a glowing warm yellow. He clears our plates and then we both sprawl on the couch. We sit in that middle moment, full from dinner but too early to go to bed. I’ve come to treasure this part of our daily routine, discussing everything that transpired over the day as we digest. He reaches over to pull me into a hug. I rest my forehead on his chest and close my eyes. My temple fits…

saved by

• Kevin Wang
• Gloria Ma

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