As soon as everyone left we started spinning. Not out of dizziness, but the slow-motion kind, where everything is so close to being wonderful and terrible at the same time, where you are so close to catching the wind at just the right angle to be lifted, to fall.
It was in that moment that I realized I could only be in love with you on porch swings, in the backs of cars, and other places where movement is only forward
never together, never apart.
“a frozen symphony of relativity,” you laughed, and told me to stop taking things quite so seriously.