It’s always… a good time… spent with you… I heard the delays from my mouth as if spoken somewhere without me, but still me, completely and fully me. In the sunlight, your face melted from some forced sternness into your natural kindness, that is so genuine and rare. Then my words melted out of my mouth, nonsensical without any cadence. So I spoke in gestures, in eyes, curved lips, the languages I was born with. We faded into the day. I pulled the book from my bag, wrote in it, and gave it to you. No explanation that was fully formed, but I hope it forms eventually even if my words couldn’t do it. I would never treat you badly. I said that, and I still mean it.