The sun surrounded you, and though I could barely see your face, I knew it was you. The way your hair and body were branded by the sun into my eyes. It was the moment I had waited for---your return.
I said a few things, just as though you hadn't been away, and suddently remembered that I needed to hug you. The setting was different from the picture in my mind, my approach less hurried, and less anxious than I had projected. My smile was nowhere as big, and I didn't jump into your arms.
Instead, I walked toward you with outstretched arms and a smile that, I hope, let you know that I was, in the simplest way, happy to see you again. You lifted me off my feet, as my arms encircled your neck. I wonder how you looked when you hugged me and spun me around, 360. I know our eyes met, as I wrapped both my legs to your right, for whatever-the-hell-reason. I suppose it was a sudden playfulness reminiscent of the time before you left. Don't remember what you said exactly, maybe, "How are you?"
It was kind of awkward. You commented on my hair, my shoes, and I, on your sun-kissed skin. Conversation didn't flow, but we were definitely happy to see each other again, in a strange, uneasy way. I couldn't look you in the eye, for a while. I don't think you could look me in the eye, either. I recall you averting them quite a bit at first.
We played a bit, as though reminding the other that that's what we used to do. I wonder if they noticed.
And everytime our eyes met thereafter, everything else, everyone else, blurred around me. You were looking right at me, only me.
Please tell me I'm not alone.
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