Because I can feel it now.
The shift.
In the pub, there were distractions. Noise. Space to pretend this was just a conversation.
Out here, there’s nothing to hide behind.
Just him. Just me. Just the fact that we’ve both decided to step into something we don’t fully understand.
Our shoulders brush.
Accidental.
We both feel it.
He moves half an inch away—
then doesn’t go any further.
I don’t either.
We keep walking.
“You always do this?” he asks after a moment.
“No.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“I saw you,” I say.
He glances at me. “That’s still not an explanation.”
“It’s the only one I’ve got.”
He watches me for a second longer than necessary.
Like he’s trying to decide if that’s enough.
It is.
Because he’s still here.
Our hands brush.
Again.
This time neither of us moves away.
There’s a pause.
Small.
Fragile.
If either of us breaks it, it’s gone.
I don’t think.
