by Bea
Image: Aparna Arora
for Gaia
in an alternate universe, my cheekbone is still warmed by your thumbprint. in an alternate universe, we never had to learn about goodbyes. in an alternate universe, the only time we aren’t looking at each other is the four hundred milliseconds we take to blink. we have staring contests and say it is our competitive nature. when i blink, i think of you. in an alternate universe, we can teleport. in this universe, we can read each other’s minds. we count each blink and make up for it in nose kisses, interlocking hands, heads nestled in collarbones, and cafuné spells. in an alternate universe, we still laugh at the same jokes, stain our cheeks with the same lipstick. visit the same campsite. in an alternate universe, we are termites. we find each other on the same log, every time. in an alternate universe, we are penguins and you have the smoothest stone. in an alternate universe, we are leeches and each of my 32 brains spend all their time thinking about each of yours. in an alternate universe, we bake banana bread every tuesday and have one slice left by wednesday. in an alternate universe, this is easy. in an alternate universe, there’s no struggle, no gravity. in an alternate universe, we are the big bang. we are the beginning and end of everything. in an alternate universe, it’s the end of the world. we don’t care. we don’t need to. we have no idea what anything means. we know that in other worlds we’re meeting for the first time. in most worlds i can still feel you against me. in those worlds it’s because you’re really there.
