"Yeah I remember. How could I forget?" The tall stools. The abysmally small table for two. Perfectly out of my element. Yet. I needed to know. And I knew. I knew everything I needed to know. All of my questions were answered. Not by asking them, but by peering into the eye of your eye. Unlawful. Wrong even. But I kept at it. We kept at it. You started it actually. I don't know how, when, or why, but I'm so glad you did. My stomach ceased to exist and all that was left was a lava lamp. The rising and falling of energy. Feeling more anxious and then less anxious on loop. But you kept at it. It was an outstretched unshook hand. The intense desire to keep looking. The intense desire to look away. This was a challenge. Right? You looked otherwise gleeful. No more lava lamp now. Inner fire now. Inner squirm. Trying to look literally everywhere but your eyes. Fine. I'll compromise. Two seconds here. Three seconds there. You kept at it. And I'm glad you did. You were really good with silence. Unsettlingly so. Honorable. Commendable. I scanned the restaurant for anything I can point out as a talking piece to distract your eyes from me. I needed to breathe. But you kept at it. And I'm glad you did. I did it. I looked. I kept looking. Then I peered. I didn't stop. Neither did you. And it became wonderful To peer. To gaze. Oh to be seen. The antidote to loneliness. To be truly seen. As you are. As you truly are. Under all the ash and mud. The gunpowder and the rubble.