I know it was just a first date. I know we're in times of change. But from the moment I clocked you dripped out in a color-matched outfit, in platform shoes to lift that shortstack — the people call me stylish, but it's your level that I aspire to. When you praised my homemade salsa, I knew I was in trouble. This isn't a missed connection, but a connection I'm finding and seeking every day I wake up. You poet, you seeker, you creator, you stalwart matron, you bruja nocturna, your bewitching curses fall on me like blessings, like rain, like manna. I'm not falling, I'm plummeting from the heavens, an immortal finding the mortal coil more temporary than ever because suddenly I'm counting the days knowing I only have so many to spend with you. A mage like me might recur endlessly, but I'm hoping in this life you and I can become a *we*.
