'Fingerpainting' by Esther Soh

In the aftermath, we curl together on the couch. There's glass on the floor again, and we'll need new plates, I suppose. Might even have to apologize to the neighbours for the ruckus - wouldn't want the landlord to kick us out for trouble-making. But there's enough time for all that later.

For now, I curl tentative fingers around your wrist, tightening them a little when you don't immediately jerk away. Between us, all our words are spent, so I write my apologies into your skin, forgiveness and repentance caked beneath my fingernails as you lean into me. Your hand is heavy on my shoulder, but it's a familiar weight, and we move in tandem, an old tango of I'm-sorry and I-forgive-you as the resentment and anger flake off like old paint.

In their place, we paint love, remorse and affection in sloppy patterns with our fingers and mouths. We push and pull, touching knees to knees and hands to everywhere on each other we can reach.

It was a long fight, but I'm not worried. There's a whole night left to go, and we have so much canvas to cover.