You are sitting back in my chair and we are telling each other things. It’s nice. Every so often we let the conversation break in such a way that everything around us becomes clear, and it’s beautiful. The sound of your blood rushing through your veins stirs me and at times like these I can’t remember if I’ll ever see you again. In fact, it never crosses my mind once. Then one of us resumes talking and I begin to get angry with myself for letting it happen. Of course I don’t. But for the next time we see each other, I wonder if we’ll ever let the conversation break like that again.