I step into the bedroom, reach to the clock and turn down the sound of electric water until the room is silent. Usually just turning down the water makes Stephen come awake, but he's still a long, lean lump under the covers. I shake his shoulder a little and he lifts his head.
"I turned the water off and you didn't wake up," I say.
"Wwww gblg mfff?" he says.
"Good morning," I say. "Would you like coffee or tea? Or me?"
"Coffee, gblg mfff?" he says.
"Would you marry me?" I say.
His eyes blink. He looks like maybe a burglar crawled through the window and proposed to him. "Marry what say?" he says. Then another blink. Then he's awake. "Oh," he says. "Happy anniversary."
On the original day, when Stephen was the one proposing to me and I was the one in the bed, the big moment was bookended by an old dog peeing on the floor and an old cat puking on the carpet. This morning, warm under the covers against Stephen's body a young dog sleeps.
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