My bare feet rest on your cool hardwood floors, left cheek flush against the bedsheets, hair a mess. You're leaning back in your chair, chin resting on your hand and glasses pushed back in your thick hair. We're listening to her sing about lonely people in the city, and you explain to me how sad this song makes you feel, eyes bright and fingers fluttering over your face. I turn to lie on my back and listen to your voice go up and down and up again. The both of you talk about humid summer nights that stick to your skin, and our untapped ability to fall in love. I close my eyes and take solace in the fact that at least we have each other in our own city.
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