Why me, I whisper, because it’s so quiet in the room with only the rain and speaking too loud could ruin it. What do you mean? he is asking. I prop my chin up on his chest and look at him. Do you like me? He smiles, and I can see he is confused. Of course I like you. He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. Why do you think I spend so much time beside you? He says it quietly and he is looking out the window. So why me, I am asking him again. Why do you like me. He doesn’t answer. I lie back next to him so we are both looking at the ceiling and his arm is wrapped around my shoulders from behind. Do you really want to know? He sighs. Yes. I shiver. I like you because you work at a plant store. I like you because when you think no one else is around, you talk to the flowers. You take the ones that are abandoned or moved out of their place and you put them where they belong, because you don’t want them to be alone. I like you because you wear that pink apron when you cook for me and you look cute. He smiles. I don’t have to look at him to know, I can feel it. I like you because sometimes you leave me in bed at night to wash the dishes in the sink. And you come back to bed smelling like soap. I like you because you sleep here with me so that I will know you are safe. I like you because you are fragile, and I like you because I need to take care of someone and I think I can take care of you. That’s why.