we sit and keep eachother company with stories
(like Paul making sure Henry’s fever is gone, while he sits enduring one of the many breathing treatments he needs every four hours)
we sleep in the same bed sharing the humidifier, but not the blankets
we fit so nicely, complimenting one another, like a fork and spoon
we cook, clean, and serve the plates side by side
we sit around a shared table
we sip soup and pile tofu onto rice