I am looking into Eleanor’s face on her pillow.
Her eyes are brown.
“Your eyes are brown,” I tell her.
“I know,” she replies, smiling.
“Do you think you’ll want to get married one day?” I ask her.
She snorts. “Wow, I can’t figure you out!”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She laughs. “Half the time you don’t text me back, and now you’re talking to me about marriage? Don’t