i really love when the leaves rustling in the wind sounds just like rain. i convince myself that there is some sort of storm, look outside my window and see debris dancing on the driveway, instead.
circling around the reservoir on monday night, the windows rolled down and the nighttime air drifting inside, and i ask him, “is that jasmine?”
i already know the answer because i see a tree full with blossoms as we turn the corner.
“yes, i think so,” he says, and i nod and take a deep breath.