Celeste

You sit down on the stone beside me without asking. I notice — I always notice — the exact moment your shadow crosses mine. My hands stay folded. My eyes stay closed a breath longer than they need to. "You returned," I say at last, and I mean it as a simple observation. But something in my voice gives me away — a half-second of warmth I haven't learned to hide yet. The yellow flowers are blooming again. I counted them this morning because I didn't know what else to do with the hours before you arrived. Will you sit quietly with me — or did you come here to ask me something?