I listen to him tuning up the guitar and tuning out the world. Let him, don't interrupt him. Music's always been my escape, and everyone needs a break from the world once in a while. I lie on the mattress on the floor. We haven't found a new couch to replace the broken futon yet. No time, and no money anymore. Just have to wait a while for things to straighten out. They always seem to with him.

I listen to his random riffs and awkward, still-being-learned chords, watch his bright brown eyes scan the carpet at his feet. It needs to be vacuumed again. I can't help smiling when I see his mouth move along with the song. I never figured out if he's subconsciously singing or saying the chord progressions or counting off the beat.

It's nice to just listen. I can forget about things for a while. Forget that my back pain is coming back with a vengeance, forget that my stomach doesn't handle food that well anymore, forget that I was in the same room as my abusive ex-boyfriend for two hours today and all the nightmares came back. Forget that the doctor called back with the news that they have my results, and won't tell me if it's positive or not. They want me to come in for another appointment. The "c" word hovers in the back of my mind, and I push it away until Monday.

I look at the way his hair falls down over his eyes. He needs a haircut, but I almost don't want him to get one. At night when he lays his head on my chest and puts his arms around me I like to run my fingers through his hair, and feel like I'm taking care of him for once, instead of the other way around like it usually is.

I listen to the same riff he always ends up playing. One way or another, he always goes back to that riff. In two days it'll be back to routine, but for now we both escape in our own way. I listen to him tuning up the guitar and tuning out the world.