10 years

At 2am, I called you to join me and Bronnie-chan at the bar.

You were still fixing your diamond-making machine, and weary.

You came.

Drinks were drunk. There may have been flirting.

At 4am, the streets still dark at this time of year, we set off for our apartments, arriving at the corner where we would go our separate ways.

You don't have to go home.

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This wasn't flirting. It wasn't the lemon sours or orgasms, either.

This was the first time I was really ready to try being with someone, properly 100% heart and body, hopefully forever.

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The White Horse went up on one wheel, spun around, turned away from your apartment, turned towards mine.

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And now, here we are, 10 years later.

Happy anniversary, sweetheart. I love you!