That night, I don’t know whether we were dancing or swimming. Streetlights made prisms of the cobbles, flickers of amber and blue pooling under our feet. The pub thrummed music, a vibrato of bass pulsing through the diluvium of timber and brick.
The lights over the doorway spun raindrops into a constellation of salt. I swayed into the warmth of you, at-swim with wine and your body pressed against mine.
The heart is mostly water. It treads its rhythm over a systole and diastole of restless waves. Two bodies in motion. One heart leaning in, the other drifting further away.