Sam,
Sam,
Sam.

I chant his name over and over.

It helps,
sometimes.

I wake up.

Almond skin,
long, night colored hair,
a chipped right front tooth
in the smile he gives me.

His thin lips peck my cheek
before he leaves our white sheets.

Sam,
Sam,
Sam.

I move towards the bathroom.

Light birthmark on the shoulder blade,
little indents near the hips,
ruffled dark hair.

He turns to me.
Chipped tooth.

"Husband."

Sam,
Sam,
Sam.

I'm afraid to walk out.
He comes over
and leads me.

I don't lose his face.

Clover eyes,
like a forest.

"It's ok. You can look away."

"I'll forget."

"You won't."

I look away.

Sam,
Sam,
husband.

"Sam?"

I blink,
trying to remember the face.

A feature.

Something.

Chipped tooth,
the first thing I see when two strong arms turn me.

My body jumps, at first.

"Husband."

"Sam?"

"Sam."