Imagine me, not as I am, but as the version of myself that exists only in the quiet space between your thoughts and mine. The one who laughs a little too loudly at your worst jokes. The one who notices the way you push your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous.
Imagine and . Not the end of a sentence, but the hinge of a door left open. Imagine not waiting for a sign, not hoping for a text, not replaying every word to find a hidden meaning. Imagine instead the simple, radical act of choosing: me, and you, and the strange, electric silence that happens when two people stop pretending they don’t feel the floor tilting. Imagine Me A N D You
Imagine looking up from your own life and seeing someone already looking back. Imagine me, not as I am, but as