You snarl at me.
I snap back.
Like a pair of tiny, scrapping dogs, or an old married couple who don't like each other much
anymore.
Then you hug me and I...
...don't melt.
Your arms are around me, pressing me close to your body. My head rests against your chest.
Like it always does.
And there's a huge, frightening distance between us. A chasm. An insurmountable gulf.
"I want to cuddle you" you say with your mouth.
"I'm hurt and afraid" you say with your eyes.
Your body says nothing at all.
And that's so strange to me, because usually it's your body that talks the loudest.
Our bodies make the shape they make when we snuggle closely together, my cheek resting on your chest.
And you're not here.
Or I'm not.
We've hurt each other.
And I ache.