One drop slowly makes its way down his chest, slowly passing that hint of a six-pack before it ends in that delicious treasure trail. More drops follow the same path, or different paths. It’s not easy keeping track of all of them, so I just settle for the ones that drip from his neck all the way down to his shorts.
Once in a while my eyes glance up to search for his, but he’s never looking. Too concentrated on the game he’s playing, the one where they run from one side to the other with a ball.