It had felt like the first deep breath I’d ever taken, to tell him everything, to hear his half of it all, then hold them up together to find they fit like two pieces of cracked pottery. I wanted so badly to go back in time and give us both a good scolding for not using our words earlier and explaining to each other we were both hungry for the same thing. We could have been going on years coupled rather than years of lonely torment. But that’s part of our story, I suppose. It seems shinier and more spectacular here and now, and after everything.
