These Questions We Talk Around

“Have you booked your flight yet?”

“I should probably do that soon, huh?”

I roll on to my side and rest in the crook of his arm. Trace the sliver of sun dancing across his chest, resting on his collarbone. He tucks my head under his chin and runs his fingers through my hair.

“Do you think…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you gonna be there the weekend I visit?”

“I’ll try.”

“You really should.”

He smiles and moves his hand to curl around my back as I draw swirls around his stomach.

“Or, you could just visit more.”

“Or, you could.”

He laughs.


“Are you…”

I lean against him in the back of the taxi as he runs his thumb along the inside of my wrist.

“Hmm?”

“Have you signed an apartment yet?”

“Nah.”

“You have like, a week.”

“I know.”

“Always the procrastinator.”

Or maybe that’s me.


I watch him wade through the half packed-boxes in his apartment, looking for forks.

“Doesn’t it seem like we always have more stuff than we think?”

“I already donated four boxes.”

“That’s crazy.”

He sighs and shuffles through another box before giving up.

“We’ll have to share.”

“That’s fine.”

I smile at him as he hands me a bowl and his one remaining fork. He settles into the space next to me, and I cross my knee into his lap.

“Is this…”

“Hmm?”

“Are you…excited for Chicago?”

“Kind of. I’m not not excited.”

I glance at him, taking a moment to memorize the outline of his face, illuminated by the projector.

“It’ll be good.”

Sometimes it’s like I never know how to ask the questions I want the answers to.


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