Imagine Me A N D You -

Imagine the space between us—not distance, but possibility. A kitchen counter where two coffee mugs sit side by side, one rim stained with your lip balm, the other cooled and half-forgotten because I was watching you talk instead of drinking. Imagine a rainy Sunday with no place to be, a shared umbrella that still leaves both of us a little wet, a book dropped mid-sentence because your head landed on my shoulder.

Imagine and . Not the end of a sentence, but the hinge of a door left open. Imagine not waiting for a sign, not hoping for a text, not replaying every word to find a hidden meaning. Imagine instead the simple, radical act of choosing: me, and you, and the strange, electric silence that happens when two people stop pretending they don’t feel the floor tilting. Imagine Me A N D You

Imagine me, not as I am, but as the version of myself that exists only in the quiet space between your thoughts and mine. The one who laughs a little too loudly at your worst jokes. The one who notices the way you push your hair behind your ear when you’re nervous. Imagine the space between us—not distance, but possibility