There's a woman reading my post right now. She's thinking about me, if even for a fleeting millisecond. Her eyes are touching the letters and words I've written. She's wrapping her retinas around these words and holding them in her head as little pixels of light. There's a woman with my thoughts in her head now and we've never really bonded. It can feel like a little secret, a little thing in the air between us now. And now I know something big, deep, real, there's been some strange change in that. Something I would love to hear or touch or feel about her. It must be something she could care about. Because for some reason if I did, I could be more than willing to listen. Or think or open up about something or give her insight she isn't ready for. Or maybe we'd find something to talk about. We've already spent a good amount of time thinking about our own present lives, her and I. Or about the past. or about how those we know and love are. About family, love, death, and the unknown, and what it means to take it for granted forever. Her mind seems to just float by with it's own threads. Its own energy. Its own sound. Maybe this one moment is just a piece of the puzzle...
