March 26, 2020
I’m imagining green skies, blue trees, yellow clouds, and a white-hot sun. Your voice in my head, your smell in the air, your hand in mine. There is a café at the corner. We will go in and sit at a booth. There will be silence, coffee-stained napkins, our trembling hands, two sets of eyes darting about. And there would be us, not knowing what to say but at the same time fighting so hard against blurting out the simplest of words. Two sentences or two letters are all we need sometimes to begin or end something.