It comes through as a blast of emotion, face reddening - tears squeezed forth - I am knocked out of a day to day procession into a recall of sequence, unimpeded from inception to finality - a reckoning of my precise vectors combined with recollection of how I have come from you - your sudden emptiness the result of my shining, screaming shape. I am born.
Here, now, you come to me (though miles away), touch me through a short message, declare that you were imagining me just then, getting up, going to work, doing nothing special. A moment out of your rush for an inhale and a pause within mine. This fact proves sufficient to bring me to a stand still - to bring forth a memory that my body holds - that, through you, I exist, separate in some small way from all the many others - distinct for as long as you hold that thought.
You do not need to send me an answer. I do not need more.
October 4, 2010