One time he and I were sitting in bed and I asked him, "where do you feel stuff?" And he said "what do you mean?" And I said "here is anxiety," and pointed to my bottom left rib where the spiders start. He pointed to his throat. "It's here for me."
I keep anger in my breastbone, he holds it in his hands. I feel sadness on my shoulders, he feels it in his lungs.
We play this game until we come to love, and I realize that I am terrified (jugular vein) of what might come. What if it is not the same, what if he feels it somewhere else, what if it is just a flash fire, not the slow burn, what if it is congealing in one place rather than radiating? I try to change topics, flight response (sternum).
He takes my hands in his and puts them over his ribs and says "everywhere, everywhere, like the sun is trying to escape me, like I am being consumed and you are filling up where I used to be empty," I say, "don't be ridiculous, Harry. Humans are 99% empty space." I nervous laugh (spiders down spine), he holds his gaze with me.
"Everywhere," he repeats.
YOU ARE READING
Two Ghosts (Bad Idea Sequel)
Fanfictionin which the tiny italian finds herself tangled up in death, heartbreak, and romance all the while forecasting some good 'ole heartbreak weather. book two. © someghoststories, 2021
