Here’s the thing I’m thinking about today, it’s the way you took your foot out of your croc and squiggled it around on top of mine and when I laughed you said, “Feels good, right?”

It sort of did and sort of didn’t — like sleeping with a dress on, like wetting your pants, like wearing a hat indoors. It was weird to be standing next to the stone wall, looking out across the park and feel your toes through the top of my canvas shoe.

I sent you a photo the next day and I remember thinking how slim my fingers looked against my skin and I remember feeling good — pale and proud, jeans unfocused on the floor below.

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