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It felt like a beginning.

A soft, grainy photo of two people sitting on a fire escape at night. They are not touching. One is looking at the city lights, the other is looking at them. The space between them feels electric.

I took the mug out of her hands, set it on the counter, and said, "I’m sorry I make you feel alone when I’m standing right here." It felt like a beginning

"You’re waiting for me to be someone else," she said. She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at the chipped blue mug in her hands. In the movies, this is where the protagonist says the perfect thing. The grand gesture.

She finally looked up. Her eyes were red. "Are you going to say anything?" One is looking at the city lights, the

Let’s talk about the narrative tension of almost . 🖤

But real relationships don't have a soundtrack. She wasn't looking at me

I put down the dish towel. I crossed the linoleum floor. I did not kiss her. I did not promise the moon.

Instead, I said nothing.