We sat next to each other, facing the back of the 18:42 to Paddington. He closed his laptop, I stroked a fingertip quickly and lightly across his knuckle. We said "how are you?". He buried his face in my neck and pulled me closer to him, tightly. His hands brushed my back, firm and warm on the bare skin of my arms. Pressing my nose against his neck, unable to get closer, I breathed him in and ran my hand over his jaw, his cheek, and let my lips find their place against the smooth, fine skin in the hollow of his collar bone. For the first and last time. We pulled away, I don't know how it happened, my lips found the tight, pursed pull of his. i started to soften, to let go of the questions, softening into slow, intense waves of purple, pulling in, spreading out again. And just as I stopped pushing and looking for what he wanted and let myself relax and open and be there, just as my breath became sharp and insistent, I inhaled his burning no. Just as my heart started to open and I couldn't breath quickly or deeply enough to hold on, I knew it was over.
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