It’s almost impressive the way that he still manages to have an affect on me.

How I know when he has entered a room because the energy just shifts for me.

Like it’s charged now. Thick. Heady.

Like I don’t really know what to do with my hands anymore. They just won’t settle anywhere comfortably except in the folds of the back of his shirt or in his hair, I imagine.

I can’t find out in this particular setting. Which I think he is doing on purpose. This is his thing. That I kind of have to be at because I’m supportive, but I knew it would prove to be a problem for me.

This is where he is in his element.

Something about that gets me going.

We both know it.

It’s like this unspoken thing between us.

A thing that developed over time and we never really spoke about it but at this point it’s been over a decade. We both know. There’s no hiding it.

It becomes a game between us.

It starts whenever the second one of us enters the room.

We don’t even really speak. Depending on the event some people don’t even know we’re together. That for some reason seems to make everything better. I don’t know why. It just does.

We just circle the room, mingle in our own groups. Talk about whatever to whoever. Sometimes I don’t even really remember what the hell I’m talking about but it’s all just part of this game. So it never really matters. Which may be a problem I guess for others.

Not for us.

It’s part of what we do.


Main sign off

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Sophie, twenty-something, avid reader, writer, really good at watching whole seasons of TV shows in one weekend and using 10 words where 5 will do, overzealous user of the ellipsis and parentheses, starts too many sentences with ‘and’ and ‘so’, living in a continual state of Wanderlust.

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