He parked in reverse. She trusted him. He thanked her. She smiled at them. He waited for her to cross. She held the door for them. He complimented him. She texted her. He shared a thing with him. She walked past them. He remembered her. She helped him. He thought ahead for her. She answered her. He asked him. She did a thing she'd long wanted to do. He did his best. She slept in. He put on an orange vest. She thought the exact same thing. He reserved the room. She brushed something off his shoulder. He held the door for her. She said thank you. He asked if he had lost weight. She showed up when she said she would. He entered on crutches. She decided to go back. He dressed up for the day. She knew he'd say that. He had a weird idea. She felt better after all. He put everything where it belonged. She noticed. He unlocked the door.  She drove herself home. He showed her a thing on his phone. She had everything ready. They ate.  

Boringly good days
are the norm on our campus--
home away from home 





Written in community with VerseLove, a group of mostly educators writing a poem every day of April (National Poetry Month). The prompt for today: Write a list of loves.