#389867 - Ironically, the 2 languages in my new countries of recent years used the word ‘Mae’ for ‘Mother’; Mae thus being the word I had grown accustomed to using for the mother of my wife, and had used for many years now. Naturally, it wasn’t as timeless as it somehow felt, so some hours later we spooned, one of my hands cupping a soft breast, my face nuzzled into Mae’s hair at the back of her neck, both actions as I loved to do when going to sleep; and sleep we did. When my glass needed refilling with beer, we both rose and began cleaning up, washing the dishes, putting out the rubbish, barely talking but each close by, very aware of the other, the occasional brushing of parts of our bodies electrifying in the quietness.
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