white old navy cotton tee, size medium.

i remember summer's late night showers: the dim lighting from the laundry room illuminating the bathroom just enough so i could differentiate between the shampoo and conditioner. i would allow the steam to engulf me, to fill my lungs, to clear my nostrils and head. it's funny, my perverted fantasy wasn't pushing him against the wall and slipping inside him. it was him looking into my eyes, pushing the wet mop of hair out of my face, and finally hearing him whisper "i love you" again.

the fantasy finally came true thursday, but it was quickly shattered by other matters. i thought this proverbial roller coaster was done hurling and jolting us in all directions, but really, come on. when does life ever work that way?

to think, an "i love you" rendered meaningless by a mere thirty minutes.

rewind to late tuesday night: my head buried deep into his tshirt, his rough hands untangling knots in my hair that were still caked in blood. he kisses my forehead, lowering his lips to an inch above my ear. "don't worry," he cooed. "i'm here. you're safe now."

fast forward a few days: we're sitting on a manhattan bound train sharing grapes out of a plastic bag. he looks at me sincerely, but pauses. without a thought he flicks my hair with his fingers; my red curls flying haphazardly in all directions. so i playfully pout and lower my eyes, but within a second and a quick shuffling of his feet he tells me, "your hair looks nice today. ....b.but you're dumb!"

let's rewind further now, back a couple weeks: we are walking home from the bar, intoxicated and flirtatious, tripping over our own feet and falling onto each other's. he stops me in the parking lot, grabbing my face and kissing me hard; kissing me in a way that reminds me what it feels like to really, truly be kissed. block after block, a tango of swaying bodies, of fingers intertwined, of hearts thumping and thundering loudly. he looks at me, his breath frosty in the twilight air, "i feel like i'm meeting you for the first time." two years later and here we were: excited and anxious, as if it were the first day we met.

i'm great at reminiscing, waxing nostalgic about the past. my talent applied to the present, however? not so much.

i've been sleeping in one of his old shirts for the last three nights now. time to wake up.

beginnings.

let's see how this goes.