Torque

Torque

Kiira Rhosair

You have travelled a thousand miles and, as I stir coffee in my kitchen, pheromones are swirling between us, concrete enough to distil and scent; huge, round molecules invading nostrils and breaching blood-brain barriers, turning us into bodies. I take in all of you with half a glance, and it starts a whirlpool that will spin in torques, and plunge us deep into that sinkhole. So I breathe, blink the thought away and ask if you will have milk. You don’t take milk. Maybe, you say. You step forward and, you have never done this before. You touch my elbow and look at me. Torques reel and madden. Sinking feelings are fates written. We will plunge again and be flung a thousand miles apart. And you say, we should talk. I don’t want to talk. I want to say hello to the hairs straggling from the dip in your shirt but, I have never done this before. I put the coffee cup on the worktop and step back.

Kiira Rhosair

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