Too good not to post, really.

Thomas and I were doing a little studying together: I on our purple couch, he on the green. He passed out a while ago, though not without a few suspicious and brief eye openings. I was just thinking to myself how angelic he looks sleeping, admiring the bird-like tufts of his blonde hair, his little nose, when he mumbled something about a comforter. I went to get him one and placed it over him.

“Kat.. you are dii-vvine,” he said, which was pretty funny in itself. But then:
“Better than…way better…all those hispanics…(groan) northerners.”

Here’s to sleeptalkers everywhere, but our Thomas in particular.


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