Sometimes you need to sit in a still room, the smell of wind and apples curling through the window. You haven’t moved since I’ve known you. If I close the door, I can only hear the sound of breathing, too soft to be tidal, almost too silent to notice. I wonder if you dream, or if you can smell the apples.
I’m not supposed to be here, but no one notices. It is late. There are no soft-soled shoes whispering in the corridor. They know me, but they don’t notice me, I’m that invisible. And as long as you’re silent, you’re invisible with me.
Do you want me to stay with you, or do you care? Even in this silence, we’re together.
Wow! Love your post here Steven.
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Thanks so much Ann. 🙂