Luke sat right behind you on his apartment couch, arms and legs wrapped around you from behind like a warm cage. His face buried in the crook of your neck, trying to sniff you as deeply but quietly as he can.

This week’s arrangement of flowers for you sit on his coffee table. This time it’s yellows and whites, a simple but pretty and fresh-smelling arrangement.

“Do you like them?” He hums into your neck, asking the same question he does every week.