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A Million Moments — ON HIATUS

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Yoga Practice:

 

“Donna,” he grunts, the veins straining in his neck, “this isn’t really what I had in mind when you said you wanted to try something new and dragged me into the bedroom.”

 

She giggles, her long red hair tickling his nose as she admonishes him. “Harvey,” she tsks, wiggling in his grip, “you have to straighten your legs out more!”

 

He huffs, wondering how he’s supposed to do that with her pelvis on his feet, lifted in the air as her torso points toward his face. She isn’t heavy, not by any means, but from this angle laying on the bed, legs raised in the air, she is. 

 

He strains as his grip on her hands tightens. “You’re going to slip.”

 

His wife laughs again, assuring him she won’t. She tells him they do this in her yoga class all the time and her partners lift her with no problems. 

 

“Right,” he huffs again, “but your partners do yoga.”

 

“Well maybe you should start,” she deadpans, her hazel eyes peering into his chocolate browns mischievously. 

 

Her body weight shifts as she chuckles at him, and her torso slides just a bit closer, their noses almost touching. 

 

Harvey can feel the heat on his face, knows he must look like he can’t breathe, but he’s determined to lift her, won’t let her prove her point that he needs to start working out more now that they’re settled in Seattle. He works out, runs anyway, but yoga is a totally different use of muscles that he isn’t used to… not that he’ll ever admit that to her. 

 

Taking a deep breath, he pushes his wobbly legs up, using all the strength left in his body. 

 

Donna laughs as he slowly lifts her in the air, their fingers locked together as his arms stretch out. 

 

He holds her in the air for all of three seconds, a proud smile blooming on both of their faces, before his legs start to shake, giving out from beneath her. 

 

She comes tumbling down, landing against his chest with an oof!

 

They both laugh, Donna rolling off of his chest and into his side where she curls up, a hand landing over his heart. 

 

“Breathing fast there, old man,” she grins with a raised brow, tapping his chest. “Need some water?”

 

He rolls his eyes, reaching up to tickle her side as he confirms that he certainly does not need anything to drink. He’s fine. Totally fine. 

 

She squirms and giggles in his grasp before calling a truce. 

 

Donna slides to the other side of their bed, reaching over to the nightstand to drink from her cup she’d placed there earlier. 

 

He shimmies up to his side, resting his back against their headboard and reaches for the remote. Flipping the television on, he selects a pre-recorded episode of Survivor and settles in to watch it. 

 

Donna hands him the cup, which he stubbornly accepts, and cuddles into his chest. 

 

They spend the rest of the night, and the rest of their quarantine, catching up on an old season of his favorite show and making better use of their mattress than just to practice yoga moves. 

 

END.