Alexander

I'm staring where we had our first true encounter. You stare back, understanding more of me than I know exists. I'm trying to ignore it, but you're reading my thoughts, making me blush. A quick rush of blood travels from my legs up to my neck and face, exposing the pounding in my chest. You smile.

I'm staring at the booth where first we kissed, four months ago. Your warm, sensual lips brush mine timidly, then deeply, then yearning for more, we embrace closer, my body shivering from nerves, your hot arms and mouth steadying me.

I'm sitting on the couch where we groped each other until we couldn't see straight. I remember what you wore. I remember how it came off. I remember how you looked at me adoringly. I remember how bold you were. I loved how your hair got messy.

I lie on the sheets that you wrapped me in, pulling me toward you as if every night we spent together would be the last, not knowing the last was already waiting at the door. Your hand asks for mine while you interlace your large fingers with my tiny ones. I have never felt more protected as you whisper to me, "I love this." You are a furnace warming up my cold body, as if we were meant to hold one another. I fit perfectly inside you, never able to get close enough. The closest, most intimate moments are never close enough. The further you go, the more I ache for you.

My head is on the pillow. I'm lying on my side staring at you hazily. I'm half asleep. You are next to me, facing me, on your side. Your hand is stroking my cheek, your thumb caressing under my eyes. I'm confused by your comfort and love, not really awake, not knowing if it's actually happening, smiling when I realize it is. I ask you if you're thinking how pretty I am. Yes, you reply softly with a slight nod and smile.

And now I'm on the corner. We don't want to say goodbye. It has to be this way, you tell me. What else is there to do? I'm hugging you, trying to memorize the feel of your back and your bones and your waist underneath my arms and hands. I'm holding the memory of us in this embrace. Maybe this outline will make every other reality go away. If I hold you tight enough, we can freeze time, or change it, or create our own. But you pull me away gently and brush away my tears with your fingers. We kiss quietly. I pull away from you, afraid to stay in this shape any longer, afraid that the mere intimacy will make me break and paralyze me. I turn and walk to the steps leading down to the subway. I quickly turn back to you, tell you I'll talk to you soon, and I watch you slowly raise your hand to your lips and blow me a kiss.

I can't even remember the train ride home.