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August 28, 2011
Once, in the stairwell, with my backpack slung over and bruising my left shoulder, and the heat of you close behind me, I considered it. A moment of recklessness.

"Why not?" shrugged my brain.

"I've warned you about this sort of behavior," my heart scolded as it picked up its step anxiously. "You aren't ready."

(My head and heart never assumed the roles they were supposed to.)

So I turned to you, nervously licked my lips, let my eyes sweep across you. Your body knew before you did. Your pupils dilated. Your breath caught in your throat.

Yes, why not?