It’s raining when you come to visit me. Your little dog doesn’t like getting his feet wet so you’re carrying him through the puddles. This dog struggles, throwing your balance off, landing your cheek kiss squarely on my mouth. I can feel myself blushing, like my desire is written in neon above my head. You hurry ahead of me, inside and out of the wet
We stand in the hall, looking at each other. You set the dog down and he waddles off.
We hug again, long and comfortable. I rest my cheek on your chest. Looking at the print of Muhammad Ali on your t shirt. We just hold one another, thinking about the years we were friends, before I went away. I’m in my pyjamas, working from home. It feels comfortably intimate.
I break away and go to the kitchen, to compose myself. When I come through with the tea, you are settled on the sofa. I perch at the other end, bring my knees up to my chest. My pyjama pants are black with white stars and my socks have pink love hearts on them. I’m wearing an oversized long sleeved t, promoting an airline I’ve never flown. I got it at the flea market. This is not what I’d expected to be wearing while vibrating with sexual desire.