Can we be 27 year olds lying in bed and remembering the first time we went out as couple, 10 years ago? We’d be in our pajamas, shirts or undies, sipping on a cheap bottle of wine with a pirated DVD of a movie we used to watch over and over. You lay comfortably in bed as my head rests, filling the gaps of my head to your chest. You would smoke a fire of something we both are familiar of. I would read a book you would not need eyes to know the title of. The smell of your unwashed hair is not foreign to me anymore, nor the fogginess of my face after I wash my makeup off at night. The meals are shared for two, and not less. You know how I like my omelette is done while I know exactly what playlist to put on on weekend night ins. We’d have schedules for whose turn it is to throw the garbage out, and the plans are never for one or in separate. In bars, we know the drink we want and what kind of stare means we’re going. No toothbrushes will be a cause of shock to anyone because we share the bathrooms. And so does the rest of the apartment. And soon enough, we’ll busy building our home and wont even bother to keep track of the months and years.