It was day 47 of quarantine.
I was sitting at the kitchen counter, bored out of my mind, scrolling through twitter, while my girlfriend sat attentively on the couch. She nodded enthusiastically, grinning ear to ear to try to pantomime listening to her coworkers and boss. She has these meetings every morning and for two hours our apartment is her makeshift office.
We have been doing surprisingly well trapped in our apartment together. We've been together for about a year and a half before lockdown and we've been talking about the possibility of engagement. She doesn't really see a point to getting married because her parents are catholic and are taking more of a "let's wait and see" approach to their daughter being a lesbian.
Her name is Nicole. She has short curly brown hair and legs that go for miles. I never saw myself as a woman who'd fall for a tall girl but that seems to be the case. She's slender with a thin face taken over by her giant eyes and beautiful smile. I almost wish she was born in france a hundred years ago so that she could inspire painters with her form. She is lovely beyond words.
We couldn't be more different appearance wise. I am not short, but compared to Nicole's 5'10" stature- I look petite. My hair is long, straight, and red and I usually keep it up to keep it out of my way. Both our skin is pale but mine has a rosy flush that I have always been self conscious about. Her skin was a flawless ivory speckled in little brown dots and mine was what some people may call peaches and cream. The only thing that really stood out about me was my large chest, something I've had ever since puberty. My friends have teased me saying my body looks like a capital P but I like them. I wouldn't be me without them.