I've missed him. Well, the me that's here now misses him. The me that took a risk and called him. The me that leaped out into the dark night flooding in rain. The me that ran into his arms under the overhang, and walked through the night unalone back to his house. I remember the person that goes by my name following him in through that high open window, and down into the depth of his basement. I was the one who suggested chocolate chip cookies, and he was the one who pulled me close and stole the dough from my unattached palm. There was no socially awkward me. Bumping hips and poking stomaches there was no distance pulling us to the far corners of distrust. He smiled, his eyes so close to mine, and I smiled back, unjudging. I liked the way he moved through his house, not looking back, not waiting for approval. He laughed about sexuality as the new hot topic and talked about what it meant to be human. It felt good to talk to him as a person, not a dating objective or a possible partner, or even a cute guy, merely us in the moment laughing because we were simply strange.
There was no danger of falling.