Shrinkwrapped.

Shrinkwrapped.

Except for a glowing light above a quiet pool of water, the massive room was dark, a sanctuary for tired lightwaves. Cool air was gentle but far from still, wisping amongst the rafters and beneath our lips where words were muted and intimate. Time slowed.

It lasted for only a short while before the others joined us. As the door opened, my stomach fluttered and at that moment I felt ashamed, assuming that feeling was wrong. But now I realize I fluttered not for the present, but for what has gone before. Remembrance pulsed inside me for the sake of nothing but remembrance. Not this peaceful moment, this dark room, this kind man, nothing. I ripped the sequences of my past from their distorting shrinkwrap, plastic that tightly protected wholly useless concepts like resale value or acid-laden photo paper or sharp piercing memories I'd try to save but also forget.

Experiencing intimacy outside of any former patterns steered me from trying to protect a sad past, towards a clearer future, better relationships, purer self. And I was alright again.