You asked me to brush your hair, half looking at me, half sheepishly staring into the distance. Another person might have looked at you strangely, refused or even poked you back into silence. Harsh and course. But I giggled as I took the brush from your hands, pulling your back between my thighs while pulling apart the knots as gently as possible. It was mostly the static sounding of bristles on strands. I don't know when you fell asleep, I'm not sure when I did either. But when I woke up to your soft jostling, I stared at you for a while then. I think this is what it was meant to be, humans brushing and watching their loved ones, as if they were small children. I will never have children, I think perhaps its a harsh fact, but I don't believe I have missed anything. Not with you here in my lap.