We entered the art museum,
a crowd gushing around the latest piece.
“Ooooos” and “ahhhs” and “what do you think it means?” filled the room.
A rush neither of us craved.
And so we took our time.
Observing.
Perceiving.
Pausing,
at the beauty in the forgotten.
Pausing,
to enjoy one another.
Until finally, we were able to take a private audience with the final piece.
I found it moving in the way that passion can be unraveling.
You found it unnerving in the way that silence can be a deliberate choice.
And I felt it.
The shift.
An unnamed movement between us.
And I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be our downfall.
The fact that you see fear
in the very thing I find beautiful.
Tell me I’m wrong.












