THE MEET UP
“They’re more lovable. Because they survived. Because they chose each other through the worst thing imaginable.”
Up I go, his fingers closing around mine. "Move with me," he says. On our feet now, pulled close without warning. His voice is low, steady. Across the floor we shift, step by step. Not waiting, just going. The world fades behind us. Quiet fills the space between motions. No music needed. Just this. Here. Now
“There’s no music.”
“So we’ll make our own.”
Out of tune, he hums a song I’ve never heard while we move slowly near the water. Clumsy it feels, yet right somehow, even though neither of us knows how to dance. A quiet moment, off rhythm but whole.
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