I may or may not have been naked

I did not care that it might not work. I did not care that it might work too well. Here, I said. This is me, I said, and then I talked for hours, for days, without pause.

Words words words me me me why why why. Are you getting ideas yet, Jason? Are you getting the picture? I did not even know if he could hear me. Maybe my words were just words to him, like I was stringing them together on a long breathless mission. Hello?

(I was trying to show him my insides, you know. I like to share.)

That I didn't know if he could see me should have been proof enough. It was not so much that he did or did not see me, but that he chose to pretend there was no difference between the two. Did not matter if I was vulnerable or half-terrified or fighting mad. Expendable, refusing to admit it.

We spent hours lost in each other's eyes for that moment. We danced to the beat of the flickering flame of candlelight. We walked under the warm breeze blowing down from the moon, listening to the ocean serenade... us.

Rhythmic, rhythmic, rhythmic... the waves crashed against her delicate ankles. So delicate, yet they hold me spellbound. Rhythmic, with the ocean...

step, step, step...

Her eyes glow as she glances at me, the brief reflection of moonlight warms my effervescent soul. We open ourselves to each other, under the blanket of the bright night sky, to the caress of the sea. We become one.

I remember all this clearly, defying the aeons between the then and the now. We were reborn through each other that night.