To Chris Kirkpatrick the word life was defined as doing the most you can possibly do and make as much noise as possible. Silence was not golden or a virtue or anything else anyone tried to pass it on as being. There were things to do, places to go, people to see, people to be seen by, people to annoy, stuff to say. There was no time in his life for laying around. Unless he was hung over and really, that wasn’t quiet either was it. There was always moaning and griping about it to be done. In person, over the phone, it really didn’t matter. As long as it was done. This was Chris, an irresistible force of nature. Or something. It was one of the reasons he was caught by such complete surprise at the moment it happened. More appropriately the moment he realized it happened.

He had been laying there in bed grousing at the alarm clock’s audacity for going off when he was in the middle of the perfect dream. He’d been headed off into a good rolling boil too. Working himself up for a long rant. A hand slid across his abdomen, stopping in the middle of his chest right where his heart was underneath. He remembered taking a breath to continue or to make some snarky crack when the slight ‘shh’ reached his ears. A mouth brushing over his jaw before feeling the soft spike of hair lay against his cheek again.

There it was. The reason calm was calming, that warmth was warm, that reason for shutting up and being still. That perfect moment when all you can do is smile and sigh and lay there. Still.


oh and in case you were wondering... Lance.