"REACHING."

Just something I'm working on.



I could tell something had changed, like the gears had been reversed or one had been removed entirely. His face was the same. He wore the same glasses, and had the same, brown mop of hair that was perfectly untidy. I wanted to tell him how much I liked his bow tie. I wanted to tell him how much I liked it when he wore a bow tie. And I liked his suspenders; I wanted to tell him that, too. But he looked at me like I wasn’t the same person anymore.
“I’m the same,” I wanted to say. “I’m the same.”
I don’t know if he would have believed me.