Sitting on the subway ride home. I love it when I hold his hand. feel him close around my fingers with a slight squeeze. as if he fears of losing me if he doesn't. and then I rest my head on his shoulder. he rests his head on mine. he squeezes my hand again.
It is in this moment that I feel like dying.
because every other moment seems to pale in comparison.
But then I live, anticipating the next moment.
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