Every morning once I open my eyes I'd immediately go out to my balcony to watch him pick the vegetables and herbs for our first meal of the day. So sexy yet adorable, he'd squat in his sweatpants, shirtless of course, as he talks to his plants.
"Awwww my baby has grown!" to the tomatoes.
"Come to papa!" to his first victim when he visits the garden.
"I'm sorry I have to eat you today," that apologetic voice towards the unlucky veggies that's gonna fill our tummy.
Sometimes I fantasise it's me he's talking to. Hopeless, I know.
Anyway, this morning when I open my eyes, instead of rushing to the balcony I realise I'm still lying on the bed at his terrace. The transparent roof is hidden again as I take a breath of the fresh air.
It's amazing how he can get a place like this when twenty
