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I have come to crave the calm of being in the same room as you.

It used to be unsettling: the sudden quieting of thoughts and release from restlessness. I was bothered by the psychological and physical ease your mere presence offered. How could you have such an effect on me when you actually give so little?

On my own I tried to suppress the constant meandering of my mind to conversations with you, but the tide is too strong so on and on I flow into my imaginary you.

For the second time this month, as has become our ritual, we, just the two of us, rode side by side in a small pedicab for twenty minutes to pick up my car. I have come to memorize the slope of your back, the abominable length of your sideburns, the clean freshness of your soap. In total silence I resist every urge to touch you, stand still at the threshold of intimacy. I languish in a chaste and silent distance, weak with yearning. Yet, it is the best twenty minutes of my week.

By the way, I love it when you wear pink.

photo credit: Stitch via photopin cc

 

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