you stand there looking in the mirror while I watch from the bed. even though you own a few ties for fashion's sake you didn't know how to properly tie one around your neck and after watching you struggle with it more than a few times, I get up and stand behind you like a father teaching his son for the first time except I'm no father and you're definitely no son. i catch your eyes in the mirror for a second but we're both trying not to think about that...or at least I'm not for fear that you might think I am (my 3rd grade reaction) and I quickly send my attention back to the task at hand. I'm touching you almost abusrdly lightly while sending the end of the tie through the last loop. you say "oh, that's how you do it" in a few words and I move back to the bed. And when you walk me to the door because I say I have to leave, I don't turn around. I put my arms out to my sides like a cross and you hug me from behind. I feel your fingers lingering on my chest as you squeeze me towards you and I kick myself for not pressing against you harder earlier.

like details in stories told after the fact, I don't know if these are made up feelings because I like to fantisize and you happen to be the object or if they're real. maybe I just like to write.