We were in the back of a car, while our two friends were in the front. The four of us were coming back from the beach, and it had been a normal day for a bunch of 22-year-olds with few responsibilities – just hanging out without knowing or thinking about what was next. I say this because it wasn’t a special day. A good one, but not extraordinary in any way. Besides how I was feeling.
Alice was lying down with her head in my lap. She was asleep and I was playing with her hair, feeling like I wanted a million more moments just like this. I started dreaming about what it might be like. We’d make pottery together. We’d play tennis. We’d cuddle on the couch watching football in matching jerseys. We’d go on bushwalks, holding hands the whole time, talking about hypothetical worlds made of trampolines and fluff.
