changes lanes,
then smiles.
“I think… maybe?”
I smile, too.
It is always like this with her—
her emotions alter mine,
change my mood the way heat and pressure
transform carbon into diamonds.
“You don’t sound certain,” I tell her.
“It’s hard to be certain of anything these days.”
She speaks like someone who knows loss,
who has waded through swamps of sorrow.
My chest aches for her.
“I believe in soul mates,” I say.
Her mouth dips into a frown.
“That concept seems… impossible.”
I inhale, and revise my statement.
“I believe two people, twosouls,
can know each other instantaneously,
and recognize how each longs
to spend a lifetime devoted to the other.
Like when you hear a song
and feel its lyrics profoundly,
as if they were inscribed on your heart,
and yours alone.
It’s a connection that eludes explanation,
and defies logic.
It seems impossible, until it happens.”
Her eyes remain on the road.
Her expression is thoughtful,
