Upon hearing what he said, I replied in the affirmative.
Just a nod. A single, economical tilt of the head. Nothing more.
Him… her… I didn't even know anymore. The thought surfaced like a bubble of swamp gas, and I shook my head, a sharp, mechanical jerk as if trying to rattle the confusion out of my skull.
"I…—"
The word slipped out of me as little more than a half-whisper, a ghost of a sound that barely had the velocity to leave my lips.
My internal logic was a mess. A part of me—the part that usually preferred a ghost's existence—wondered if we should have just kissed. If I should have sought out the chase-thrills I spent my life avoiding. My default was minimum engagement, a flatline of existence, but the physics of the room were changing.
In the mist of all this, he moved. He didn't just step; he encroached, shrinking the distance until the air between us was a compressed, vibrating pocket of heat.
