I. It is not coming together. It started out that way, but I can see it is about spinning apart just as much. Fifty-fifty. Something about the physics of it. The physics of being equals. II. You’re here, I’m here. That’s easy. I hope you don’t mind, but I also brought someone new: I guess you’d call them, Who I Think You Are. I thought you would get along, that you two should meet. I thought to myself earlier, “People like that should meet!” And here we are, trying it out. III. In a story I’ve heard, forbidden lovers turn into a stone or a tree, I never remember which. What I remember is how the prospect of turning into a stone or a tree never seemed so fantastic as being two in that one.
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