You: bioluminescent. Softly. Like a nightlight that went to art school.

Me: said “is it warm in here or is it the candles” and you said “that’s me, sorry” and I said “oh” and then stepped backwards into the big dried flower arrangement.

You helped me put it back. You held the dried flowers while I held the bark. We definitely made it better than it was before. Nobody noticed. The moss runner has seen worse.

Didn’t get your number. I would like to be embarrassed near you again.