We were the only ones standing there on the sand, and you were looking out at the ocean and I was looking at you. I wanted to hold your hand, or touch you in some way, or just be close enough to feel the warmth of your body. I turned my gaze to the fire, and didn't see as you turned yours to me.
And suddenly your arms were around me, as if you had known what I was thinking and had reacted as if to orders. My arms were around your neck, and my chin was buried in your shoulders, and before I knew it, I was crying. You knew what this meant to me, and held me tighter. My fingers grasped at your broad back, and you stood, strong, ready to hold my sobs and shudders as the cried fled from my lips.
I felt your hands, honest and firm, wrapped around my upper back, and I wonder now if you were thinking about how fragile I felt, how weak and small. Your hands emanated warmth. Your body was an anchor, holding me in place, but also a rope that someone had thrown me, that I clung to desperately. I hadn't known before, but I knew then. I loved you. I loved you.
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