When I am standing by the railing, you come up from behind me. Like in some epic romance, your arms wrap around my waist and your cheek fits snugly at my temple. I can feel the warmth of your chest rising and I can feel the hollow it leaves between us when it falls. I think you feel it too and you shuffle closer; I think you are encouraged by my non-response; I think you think it means nothing is different. Continue reading “Dreaming of Darcy”
Dreaming of Darcy
