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his other hand pushed below the pillow, your head was resting on, and reached for a hefty black book lying close to the edge of the mattress. You knew the one, had grown fairly familiar with over the past few months and knew why Colin always kept it close. “Pick one.” He offered, a little assertive, however, ultimately just wanting to be sweet with you. “You know the one.” To manage holding the heavy hardcover, he let off of you after a moment of hesitation. “Again?” Colin hadn’t fully finished the brief question as you nodded. “And here I thought I was the only one being annoying about it.” You repeated the nudge, pushing a tiny bit harder this time whilst Colin turned through the pages until he reached the desired chapter in his thoroughly read-through Edgar Allan Poe collection: The Raven - this poem in particular being your favourite and an evergreen to echo from his poster and tapestry-laden walls.

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