The reciprocal trust given to a stranger cooking your food in another room. That they won’t taint your food. That you will pay them afterwards. You may be there specifically to eat their food, but they’ll never even see you.
Some transactions, usually expensive, one-time deals or heavily weighted in favour of one party, are money up front. With hindsight, I probably wouldn’t bother. The anticipation or effort hardly ever seems fair for the reward or the consequence.
The perfect sweater. Soft, warm, a great fit. Worn so often, it became part of my identity for a time. First a pull, then a stain, so alas, no longer the favourite. The elbow rubbed a hole that couldn’t be mended. Expensive, pure wool and hand-knitted, it became a gardening jumper, then eventually part of the dog bed.
I can no longer hang around waiting for you to decide whether you need me in your life. I want to live.
I want to forget your face as it is now.
I want to remember it as it was then.
The next time I see you, we will be old, and in that flash of recognition, I’ll know instantly how you felt about me. But if that day never comes, then so be it.