Lying in a warm bed, sheet pulled out at the edge, listening to the gentle hiss of the motorway. The swoosh of hot rubber on wet tarmac sooths me at this time of day; apposed to the angry rush hour roar from two hours ago.
I feel her body gently slip out, as though into water; and I drift away for a while, floating on an ocean raft. When she returns, it is with a plate of lovely yellow and white scrambled eggs, and a cup of strong tea.
We hide under the covers, and are in heaven.