A good pair of gloves

He stood there slipping gloves over his hands. I watched as each finger found it’s rightful place inside. He flexed his fingers back and forth testing to see if the gloves were a perfect fit, if they felt like home. I watched him try on gloves and wondered if he knew. If he knew how much I loved how particular he was. How everything had to feel like home to him or it wasn’t worth his time. I wondered if I felt like home to him, if he tried me on like a pair of snug gloves and sighed with relief when he discovered that I’m more than my skin. That he could sink into me and feel a sense of comfort. I pull him away from the gloves and hug him tight as if to say there’s warmth in me too. As if to remind him that I’m also a good choice that he once spent time making. He tries on every pair of gloves in the store as I watch, fingers sliding in, flexing back and forth. I wonder which ones he will pick and if he will be happy with them when they have to be truly tested. When they are up against the elements. I wonder if he’s happy with me when our relationship is tested, when we are up against the elements. Our relationship is like a nice pair of gloves that we both slipped on, fingers flexing, testing for comfort.