the 6:45 south

There was a moment, walking up the stairs together, just after I caught up to you--I was saying something and looking ahead, but I watched, from the corner of my eye, as you tilted your head away and mussed with your hair. Sweeping it behind your ear. Or patting it down, perhaps. Three quick flicks of your wrist. It was not a cool-guy-hair-sweep. It was the gesture of a boy who’d been caught unaware.

Later I will tell you that was the moment I fell in love with you. Which isn’t true at all, that happened nearly as soon as I saw you. But that was the moment, my lip caught behind my teeth and I thought: oh, you too, huh?