Here I am again, waiting outside the same station for the same person to pick me up in the same car with the same knots in my stomach.

Everything is the same.

Everything is different.

Last time I wondered "Can it be as I imagined it? When we meet, will the chemistry be there? Will he, can he, want the real me, the way he wants the idea of me that he knows, and says he loves?

I was terrified.

I'm still terrified.

Last time was wonderful.

We met, we hugged, we stepped apart and looked at each other. And then, we kissed. A frisson, a knowledge that yes, there was something real here. An acknowledgement of our mutual nervousness as we drove back to meet the others. Hands reaching out, clasping, reassuring.

Later, alone, everyone else gone, came more kisses, and more, so much more.

An interlude in our lives. Something brief, something beautiful, something to remember, and treasure. Something we had promised ourselves if things were right. And they were.

We knew the risks, we thought. The hurt it could cause, if the wrong person found out. Where we would have to be careful, where we could be open. How we would feel, apart, after. We weighed them, knew what we had to do to overcome or live with them. We thought we had covered every eventuality.

We were wrong.

Nearly a year ago, and so much has changed.

The relationship we thought couldn't be threatened -- yours -- crumbled and gone. All the bitterness that went along with that, baggage now, that we have to face. Not all a result of us, but enough, dear gods, enough.

A shifting of priorities in your life, a different future in a different country with a different lover. A future that isn't with me, but that might have a place for me in it. Or it might not. A future that I might not even want a part in.

Last time we hoped for pleasure, not at all sure whether it was possible. This time, we fear pain, and we know it is not only possible, but almost inevitable, we only hope to come through the pain to a place of peace.

So much we have to say. Decisions we have to make. Things that can't be said, or done, or known without us being face to face. Knowing the love and the wanting are there. Knowing that even so, we may have to disregard it, put it to one side, and just be friends. Not knowing if we want to do that. Not knowing if we can.

So here I am again, everything the same, and everything different. Waiting for you, and scared.

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