Summer cooked the earth beneath us. You held me instantly, not letting go, your naked back soft beneath coconut sunlotion and a thin film of sweet sweat. I inhaled your hair, the honeysuckle I thought I'd never smell again. It felt like an hour we stood like that. You said you missed me. You meant it. I missed you too, the perfect-fit part of myself I'd denied myself this last year. I missed you and still love you. But something's changed. Today, that made us both happy. Here's to Naples. Here's to dormant volcanoes and ashy relics of past lives.