February 01st, 2025

Sizing each other up, side by side, not touching. Wondering how to love this person. If it's possible to love a person such as this? When time passes, little hints, we wonder.
Someone asked me today "So... what's your story Rachel? You're smart, cute, and attentive. And single?" (verbatim, with the misspell). And my mind spooled. There's so many explanations. Timing. Me. Them. Communication. Tolerance. Chemistry.
I told you, you smelled of ungrieved longing. Months later I realized you smelled like love-at-first-sight. That might've been the combination. The us.
"Can I smell it?" Josh had said, and I pointed to the center of my chest. "I put it here," and he put his face to my chest and breathed in. I forget what he said. "Doesn't it smell like graham crackers? And brown sugar oatmeal?"
Unbridled optimism. Walks by the waterfall. Love. One of sorts anyway.

He was wondering too. How to love me. If it was possible. It was too new to say.
Not in a hurry, and also not wanting to know the answer. Holding the question made it all possible. Standing there. I didn't want a palm read or a tarot read or an aura photograph. I didn't want an omen. I just wanted to be there and not know.

Playing dumb. Meant to excuse myself for that. I knew what question he asked when he wondered if I had someone to connect to about art. I knew what he meant. He had someone. I wasn't going to be that someone. A big role was filled already. There were little roles to fill. Kissing. Fucking. A bit part in the scheme. In the wants and needs. He didn't want to challenge this other thing. I didn't want to. To have a need filled is to hold your place on top of the caterpillar pile. 

I will be something. Even if it's just a question balanced in the air.