She's Perfect
It's early in the morning and the sun had just started to peek through the blinds in the bedroom. I ran a hand over my face and turn over to look at the clock. I sigh at the time then lay onto my back in bed again. I hear her in the bathroom, and my eyes travel over to her sounds.
I see her in the bathroom studying herself in the mirror. Most likely trying to find parts of herself that she didn't like at her age.
She doesn't like seeing herself in the mornings. She habitually wears cotton gray sweat pants with a white ribbed tank undershirt and fuzzy yellow slippers to bed with her hair down and mussed a bit for the pillows. She's a rough sleeper too, so I can only image the utter panic she feels waking up next to me now.
When I tried to kiss her good morning, she moved away and retreated to the bathroom. Catherine was only a shadow of what she was at work in the morning.
I got up out of bed and joined her in the bathroom. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her neck.
"Warrick, please don't do that," she whined to me. "I look awful and you know it."
I took in her appearance in the mirror.
Her hair down, no makeup, no shoes on her feet, and twisted uniform pajamas.
I turned her from the mirror to face me. She had a schoolgirl frown on her face and her eyebrows were furrowed stubbornly. I was trying to think of a thousand different ways to tell her how beautiful she was, but words wouldn't do her justice. So, I pulled her into a kiss, chasing away any imagined imperfections she felt.
I felt her smile against my lips as she leaned into me.
I love her.
She's perfect.