Something's different, he can tell. We spend longer moments in silence; I don't feel like speaking at him, and he never feels like speaking. He plays with my side, my thigh, making motions of light tickling though he knows I'm not ticklish. He doesn't look me in the eye, except once every few minutes, sideways. Something's different but he refuses to say it. We kiss with our lips closed, even as we say goodbye.
I've only seen him twice in the last week; well, three, if you count this afternoon's brief meeting. ohboyohboyohboy.
But everything else about this last week has left me incredibly optimistic, about myself and the future. The air has shimmered and I've felt the tiny cells right below my skin expand until I was itchy in a good way. I just don't know if I really need anything beside myself.
yeah, gurl.
ReplyDeleteOK so I typed a bunch of things a bunch of times and then deleted them, because I'm not great at being frank on the internet, but hey! In a vague way I will say:
ReplyDeleteIt happens
You can take it.