Peher
How it began
We met in the most unexpected way, the kind you never plan for. We exchanged numbers, and then, after talking through the whole night, came your text at five in the morning: "No plans to sleep?" I didn't have any. As it turned out, neither did you.
Somewhere before sunrise, I asked if you'd come with me to buy bread makkhan, and you said you would, happily. I have thought about that "happily" more than you would believe.
Then I taught you a game, badly, and you understood it anyway. On the count of three, we each said a word, and somehow the night wrote itself.
I said we were poles apart. You said we were thinking about the same thing and simply saying it differently. You were right. You usually are.
My alarm went off that morning, and for the first time in my life I was already awake to meet it, only because I was still talking to you. I told you a day has four pehers, and you said one of today's had already been spent with me.
When I finally passed out and woke up again, the first thing I did was reach for my phone, half afraid you had been a dream. You weren't.
Since then, it has been small things that somehow feel big. A coffee where I asked them to write your name on my cup instead of mine, and liked it so much that I wanted you to have one too. A song started on a countdown, three, two, one, so we could hear it together from two different places.
And when Papa came unannounced, you stepped out of your own meeting just to tell me,
"I am here. Everything is ok."
It was, because you said so.
It has only been a few days, and I know that. But some people feel like sukoon from the very first message, and you were one of them.
The rest is still being written. There's no rush at all. I just hope you're in it.