Rand says, you must first say the ‘I’ before ‘I love you.’

There must be two ones, ‘fore two become one.

…

In the morning, she peels an orange. And separates me a slice.

It has been a few months since I was last alone. I am feeling better.

Agreeable bedfellows: fruit and morning, I think behind my eyes closed tight against the light.

“How’d you sleep?”

“I didn’t,” she breathes through a mouthful of orange.

I push myself up on my elbows.

“Why not?” I ask concerned.

“You were occupying the dream space,” she smiles sheepishly, pretending to be human.

“I was what?”

She peels an orange, tells me she shares dreams with her bedfellows.

Last summer oranges were only wet.

…

I found myself “out there”—in others, in nature. It is in me actually it seems, but doors within me to which only outside things hold the keys.

…

“What on earth are you doing out here in the cold without your coat?”

Shivering, cupping her coffee, she looks up out of a trance and smiles.

“I’m writing,” she says simply.

“What,” I begin to stutter an objection.

She smiles at my misunderstanding and raises her index finger to tap twice her temple.

“Oh,” I whisper.

I was in a holy place.

So I took off my coat and sat next to her.

…

There must be at least one on either side. One cannot be dependent on nothing.

Dependent on oneself at least—but I learned this was not enough. Happy at least those years of self-reflection were not a waste.

I searched for meaning and rightness but the truth is I feel alive when I’m with you and if we’re godless then I care much more to be with you than to be right. And if you don’t hear my logic I’ll learn to speak music.