Day Forty-Four: Understanding
Every time I visit Seth's apartment I can't help but notice that it's small. I just... can't help it. He's always so pleased about it being so spacious for a downtown apartment that I don't dare say that to me it looks tiny. At least it's nicely decorated. It's not a "bachelor pad" like Forde's place, which, though I've never seen it myself, has become infamous among our security personnel.
"And who's this one?" Cuddled up on the couch in Seth's arms, I point to the policeman in the photo.
Seth peers at it a moment. "Jim O'Malley. He's in Jersey now."
I flip through several more photos, all of men and women in NYPD uniforms or in the garb of cadets. "You look so young..."
"I was nineteen."
I chuckle. "I was eleven." I stop to inspect a group photo taken after hours it seems– it looks like they're at a pub. There's a blonde with her arm around Seth's neck. He looks a little distressed in the picture to be honest. "Who's she?"
"Linda Smith."
"She's pretty," I say with a raised eyebrow as I turn to look into Seth's face.
"She swore like a sailor," he replies, giving me a squeeze.
I intertwine my fingers with his and lean my head back against his chest. "Thank you for sharing these with me."
His lips brush a kiss over my temple. "I know I've been... distant this week. I just needed time to think."
I give his hand a squeeze. "It's all right. I understand." And that's all we need to say about it really because each of us does understand. It's true I was worried that first night, but as long as I know that he's all right then I know I can let him have his space and that he'll come back to me.
It's a weeknight and I ought head back home, but I feel so warm and pleasantly drowsy in Seth's arms and it's not long before I doze off.
