on non-attachment

i. My hands were shaking. My hands shook when you texted me and when I was sitting in your beat-up car driving over the Bay Bridge. They shook when I talked to my friends about you. They shook when we were sitting across from each other at the darkened restaurant, waiting for shakshuka and two glasses of orange wine. When my hands shook I drank to steady them. Then I felt worse the next day. Falling in love was six months of my hands shaking. At the time I wrote this in my journal:

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