In between sips of perfectly orchestrated peppermint tea, steps on and off the ropey bathmat you snuck near the bathtub, sweet raspberry sorbet with a mosel of weakly matcha butter cookie and guzzles of sickly rich apple cider spiked with whiskey just cool enough to warm torsos. 

In between shadows cast in yellow lamplight and dizzying wintry evening air. In between glances. Self invented narratives of what’s to come. Between crevices in my husk.

In between small wonders, monochrome black coffee…between the 7 and the 4, the local and the express, entry and exit. Between hopes that unfurl past your morning commutes and whistles of graying railway tracks. Where in between 35% and 97% have you fallen in love?

Asking between the train rumbles, in between paralyses induced by not being able to see past.