We walk on dusty sidewalks, your hand on my arm. The road is drowned with the zooms of vehicles. The universe may or may not care. But here we are, travelling toward somewhere, somewhen. We enable the silence to speak for us. A spot of perspiration on my chest. A hint of your breathing. We just let the moment sink in. We just let things figure out for themselves.
Have we figured it out yet? Nah, we’ll never. The future is a frontier, grassy and we are the pathfinders. Scary. I agree with you, but your hand still holds on to my arm. That is good enough. We’ll both make it. I promise.