She had a crazy natural way of just looking at me and my hesitations all to often faltered to her charm. I had become decidedly quick at answering her questions or saying yes to her prompts; for fear that she may change her mind and I would be left wondering what if. I hoped she wouldn't notice the excited quiver when I sometimes spoke to her or notice how awkward I was at being normal. If she had there was no sign of it. I walked- inebriated by the night air and the smell of her so close to me- in lines that could no sooner be called straight then lines at all. We were masked by darkness and unfamiliar sights and for me anyway there was a sense of freedom, of limitless imagination. We could be anyone to the world, to ourselves and to each other. I had no fears of what others thought about me or us. The only thing that mattered was that underneath all the bullshit she saw me; really saw me.
I don't think I had ever had so much feeling in just my fingertips; nerve endings exposed in my palm I never knew existed. At the same time it seemed as though the rest of my body was so incredibly numb.
