Baby Shampoo

He wraps the warm, compliant little boy in arms and sits up on the motel bed with him cradled in his lap. Downy dark blond hair still damp from the bath, he nuzzles the top of his little head under his chin and murmurs soft assurances. He breaths in the smell of little boy skin and baby shampoo and feels the warmth of the body against him.

I love you so much. I love you and Sammy so much. He whispers it. He kisses the top of his boy's head and picks up the worn out little book. He knows the words by heart. He knows just when his little man has drifted off. Same spot in the story every night. He finishes the story anyway. This moment, night after night, this little bedtime ritual is the only time of day his heart doesn't hurt, the lump in his throat doesn't choke him, her absence doesn't make every bone in his body ache.

He puts the book down, closes the light and they sleep.