The 19th of February 2015 – Gettysburg, Pennsylvania

(found underneath the blanket that kept their two hands hidden from undue scrutiny)

My Dear,

Heartbeat. Your beating heart. And mine.

I feel it through the palm of my hand. Tears in my eyes. Never felt so close.

Always felt so distant, always felt so far away, but here is your heartbeat – in the palm of my hand. The tickle of my nose as it nuzzles against the nape of your neck.

Beating hearts. Chests together. Warmth and glowing.

Smiles. Wow. Whoa. Woah.

The way you smile when I kiss along your chin, and I get to watch the dimples appear out of nowhere in the centers of your cheeks. And I place the palm of my hand on your chest, and I feel your beating heart. Right there.

Never been here. Never been in the sun. Never felt warm glows on my back. Never been able to leave the umbrella at home.


A sudden appearance. You next to me. Grab my hand and hold it somewhere hidden so the others don’t see and get jealous.


Blue eyes smiling. Raven-hair smiling. Red neckerchiefs worn to cover the bottom halves of faces smiling.

Tell Chad to go out and shovel the snow for Chrissakes.


Listen to the adult man at the front of it all sing a song about the sunset’s beauty.


Leaning closer to you until our foreheads rest against each other.


Heartbeat. Heart beating in the palm of my hand.

So close.



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