Walking out of the restaurant with you behind me and I am thinking about the way you looked at me from across the table all evening. I don’t want to leave yet, but it’s late and we have places we need to be. Turning towards you, our arms meet in the middle and when we touch, something in the air shifts, causing me to pause.
I close my eyes and turn my head away, listening. I can feel something significant, but it isn’t until a few months later that I find the words to describe it. I suddenly know that you will always be someone who is important to me.
You may not remember, but you see my pause. Your face is lowered as you try to look into mine and you slowly whisper, “What?” — wanting to know why I seemed to hesitate, why my eyes are closed and my brow is furrowed, and why I have turned away from you for the first time tonight.
A second passes and I raise my head and lean in towards you. Drawn to you, I melt when you lean into me, too. We are in slow motion, and something has shifted, and the world is just a little bit different than before.
“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.”
― Carl Gustav Jung