Laying in bed with (what is now) my ex. She was my first girlfriend, and I was about her thirtieth boyfriend. We weren't doing anything except cuddling, and she was asleep at the time. It was in my room on my bed, except the arrangement of furniture is different so it seemed like a particular place. Reminiscing about the fact that it was a totality of desire and longing to be doing exactly what I was doing at the time, in perfect serenity, makes me want to cry. It wasn't her specifically - I still talk to her and we might date again - it was the season and the situation in general. I felt for the first time in anything the newness of gentle contentment, which was when I was 17. It wasn't 'young love', fiery passion, lust, or sensible romance. It was the fact that for once and perhaps the only time in my life, I could hold someone and feel as if our thoughts were mutually exclusive.

Then she woke up, looked at me with her rehearsed childlike innocence, and shattered the dream.