You arrived early at the tiny apartment I shared with my roommate, stood outside, and waited. When I finally got home, you looked up from your phone, strands of hair falling over your eyes, and gestured at the door. I think you should check on your friends inside. They might be trying to tear your place apart. I’ll wait here for you.
The sun was bobbing like an orange beach ball in the bay when we finally headed out, cruising through the hilly streets of Chinatown and into a dumpling place. In the tiny restaurant, you asked if I’m ticklish, and I lied and said no. You leaned towards me, and the next thing I knew, your hand was cradling my palm, your fingers dancing. I froze, my face heating up, and when you finally let my sweaty, ticklish hand go, you smiled and said now I can be sure you weren’t lying.
We sat far away from the screen at the movies. As I leaned over to face you, the armrest separating us sagged under my weight and sunk into the cushioned chairs. I lost my balance, and the chairs began to stretch like bubblegum, sending us away from each other like waves on a pink, sweet sea. Toppling back, I met your eyes and mouthed what the fuck, and drawn by your half-startled, half-amused laugh, I pretended to cast my hand desperately towards you. With a gentlemanly bow, you reached over and caught me gently, your eyes never leaving me. As the lights dimmed, you lingered.
I pressed my forehead against yours, and with your fingers fluttering over my eyelids, the world spun and unfolded as shots and shots of scenery burst into and out of my vision. From tangled webs of gnarled roots at the base of an ancient cypress towering over a floating island, I raced up with the squirrels, hummed with the cicada, and finally burst through the canopy with the wind. Sunlight flowed down my hair, splashed against the massive leaves shielding the island from everything else, and rained down. For a moment everything disappeared, and in the darkness all I could feel was the ghost of your fingers pausing and pressing lightly against my closed eyelids. Confused, I tried to grasp for you, but your fingers slipped out of my hands and resumed their dance. Once again, sunlight poured from above, dragging me down, beckoning me to go.
I floated in front of a gray balcony. A pair of pink flip-flops were propped against the glass door. Through the half-drawn curtains, I saw someone inside stretch and turn towards me. You looked older. Your arms were wrapped tightly around someone’s shoulder, and slowly, you turned away once again. The TV screen in your room was frozen on the last scene of the film you’d been watching. It was me, sitting alone in a seat far away from the screen in a movie theater. I watched as you lifted your fingers from my eyes one by one. As you stood up and my eyelids began to flutter, the screen grew dark, and a waterfall of light cascaded down from between the gaps in the canopy. Through the light, I saw the person you’d been holding fade away. You turned towards me for one last time, smiling, and let me go.