1. Threshold

Empty lungs before a deep breath. The pause between a heartbeat. And you and me, standing together now. Shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. Two bodies, two brains, two souls that can never be one.

The din from the crowd softens into silence as the hum of the electricity between us surges. With a hand around my waist and your eyes locked into mine, I feel your fingertips graze my skin, luxuriating in its softness. The world shrinks to the space we share. Just us, only two that can never be one. Humans are makers of their own reality, and depending on our choices, it can be large or small as we want.

Our choice is inevitable.

You ask a question with words I can't hear and I answer with words I can't hear and none of it really matters when your lips meet mine. Everything else all fades away: the crush of revelers around us, the bright lighting pales into a hue as rosy as my whims. Whatever walls built between us are let down, and we fly over those final few inches. Until now, I had forgotten what kissing tastes like. It tastes like skin. Of course it does.

Your scent reaches my nose, my hand combs through your hair. I've known you before and I meet you again, learning who we are once more. Over the precipice we go, our inevitable choice, trying to be a single soul.

We pull away from each other, and I find your eyes again. Coffee-brown, warm and inviting to drink from. And even though I want to jump in and swim in the stuff, a single faint thought plies at the back of my brain:

"I can never not know what your lips taste like."

(Author's note: this is semi-autobiograhical and semi-fictional but all creative! Thresholds in general fascinate me, but right now I'm drawn to the different threshold points within relationships).

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