During the summer Sarah and I pass each other in a rush of thin fabric and sunscreen. We are busy making the most of every last delectable second of sun and warmth. And then the rain begins to fall and we rush indoors and find ourselves sharing space again. At the same time. At first that feels tight. Crowded. Our rhythm skips, there is nothing left to talk about and the dishes are dirty. But before long we find it again... the shaded area where we overlap and match. I join her in the kitchen for dinner, even though I already ate and have a dress to finish. I give my face to her. I invest, I feel safe, I feel loved. Sarah is the woman who will debate the hem length of the new dress. She answers Bello even though his question came from my lips. She is long. And when the realtor shows me a house, she is there too, deciding if the other bedroom is to her liking. I am not living anywhere where I won't find her warming up the kitchen on a cold night.

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