“i shake when i talk to you,” i say, my gaze fixated on the off-white kitchen tiles in front of his feet, my feet planted on those same tiles, my hands winding around each other and my nails digging in my palms. i see him stepping closer, closing the distance in 3, 2, 1---

“i shake when i’m not talking to you,” he whispers.

he kisses me. we don't shake.