Today as I listened to your words, there was a crunch, a grinding, like your words were gravel. While you talked I thought about fossils– that outside imprint, the rigid swirl, the stone self. And then I thought you should take a long, long swim in the warm ocean. Dunk under the waves. Float. Tread water. But stay out there until your skin puckers and softens, until your eyes sting so much you can’t bear to open them. When you do bring your raw self from the water, you’ll be thoughtful, careful of what you embrace.

What troubles me the more is that I can’t decide if I’m really seeing you or if I’ve just fallen to judgement. Maybe it was the heat and my dread of winter coming. Maybe it was the fact that we met up in what could have been an airport lounge, a place where strangers often sit side by side.

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