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Apr 2016
We leaned into each other's personal space.
The pebbled surface of her bicep rubbed against my tattoo the skin gently rasping.
When she stepped close, close enough our arms brushed, I was reminded of how well she knew me.
We shared a dark intimacy over identical experiences.
She understood my demons on a deeper level.
I felt less alone with her, less fake.
Our mutual knowledge of the other meant I didn't have to pretend.
When I had to leave home she sheltered me.
For a week I learned about her experiences, quirks, triggers, and lifestyle.
Nothing was left out.
It took three nights before I could be coaxed into her bed.
I had been sleeping in the closest unwilling to join her.
She lent me her car during my stay.
Her driving privileges were temporarily revoked.
I drove her everywhere.
Everything we did had an undercurrent of personal knowing.
It was a private understanding of the other.
It brought us closer in more ways than proximity.
Written by
Chloe  25/Cisgender Female
(25/Cisgender Female)   
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