You’re standing so close I can see myself distorted in the mirror-like finish of your sunglasses. We’re walking side by side down Main Street, a setting summer sun dying everything a subtle shade of gold.

In your glasses, everything is an odd reflection of blue-green and silver, bulging in odd places. I want so much to reach up and take them off your face, but I don’t. Because that would be crossing a line we’ve drawn but haven’t spoken.

We’re walking down Main Street, yes. But we’re also walking another journey – a metaphorical one. And someday we might know who it is we really are, but that day is not today.

The truth is, summer days are for stepping back and stepping out, and taking things in without having to understand them.

And I know that you should be holding my hand, instead of being miles away behind your glasses with your shrouded eyes and your quiet thoughts.

It’s easy to distort the truth, to deny it.

So we walk along together down the same street, but we’re miles apart.