I saw him walk in while I was sipping my tea. I pretended not to see him. I was in my space then, I didn't want to bother with short hellos, but keep reading, keep drowning in the poetry and abstraction because the words really meant something and I hadn't felt that in so long.

He put his hand on my shoulder and touched my hair as he walked past. I moaned a little and he kept walking.

I looked up at him and he never looked back. Unaffected. Always coming and going, always touching me but never being touched. I cannot move so quickly, I linger. And I thought, this is such a quintessential moment, this is such a perfect metaphor. It felt so cruel. But what do you do? Call it off and give up, or keep getting your heart broken?