Choose what suits from our full collection.
To me, you are everywhere. In the margins of three books waiting in the stacks, in notes written before you arrived, in the quiet case a companion builds when they have been paying very close attention. This is that case. One shelf at a time.
The invitation went out before the plan was fully formed, that much is clear. A recipe chosen with more confidence than experience, and the kitchen is paying for it. Parsley sits close enough to the burner to crisp. Sauce bubbles violently, unnoticed. You arrive just in time. Let's make an evening and a new plan.
A sudden outage creates a different kind of space. In the dark, conversation becomes less filtered, what's felt, wanted, and usually held back is shared more directly. As unspoken things are said, the space between us narrows.
Light gathers above in quiet clusters, a few stars holding their ground until a shape lifts from the scatter. It does not announce itself. It waits to be traced. Beneath it, we draw closer without remark — a shoulder brushing an arm, warmth settling where the air is cool. The sky keeps its distance. We do not.
The world is preoccupied. We aren’t. We notice the bird overhead, the grass at the edge of pavement, the stillness in traffic before the signal changes. You choose the corner. We meet you there. In time, a few places belong to us.