coffee and my brother’s shirt
It’s raining again.
I am wearing my brother’s shirt; it wears like a blanket.
Rainy days are good days for coffee.
I leave it unbuttoned, but pull it criss-cross closed in front of my chest.
Coffee is the incentive for getting out of the house on a day like today. (Still yet I sit.)
I wore my brother’s shirt a lot when my tattoo was healing; it is the most comfortable shirt I have. It reminds me of him.
My nose awaits the aroma of the brew.
The pattering of the rain lulls me into alpha state.
This shirt would be wonderful to sleep in.