
It Was the Way He Understood Me
He had this way of making me feel like the only woman in the room and yet the last person he'd set his gaze on. I'd look at him from across a crowded party, waiting for his eyes to meet mine, to feel that warm sense of recognition that hit just the right spaces within me, yet were as frequent as witnessing a star firing across the sky. He knew the words that filtered into my soul, the gestures I would cipher pure and the corners of my back where his hands would coast and land