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Today is Sunday.

The beginning of the week. Church. It is a beautiful place tucked in a drab building. It is where the people I love gather.

My two favorite things in the world. Your arm around my shoulder and then you tighten your muscles, squeezing me to your side. And praying with you. Our hands intertwined, your cheek on my head. You kiss my forehead.

You attempt to sing the bass parts of the song. I laugh, interrupting my own attempt to sing.

Tacos. Off to work. Another long, chaotic night. Your voice over the walkie. I laugh. You blow me kisses when no one is watching. You look so young and handsome.

I am cold and sleepy. I wish you were here. We could be curled up in bed, my head on your shoulder. 

I miss you. I miss your broad chest and your lips. Your large hands and your voice. 

It is Sunday and I love you.

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