The Sideways Talk

Things had changed.

It wasn’t
“Do you want to come to the river with me?”, anymore.

It was
“I’m going to the river. Would you like to join?”

No longer
This is something I want to experience with you.

Just an open door.
No invitation held.

I felt it immediately.
The door cracked.
A breeze through the room.

We went to the river.
It was easy.
Affectionate.
Enjoyable.

And underneath it all, something had shifted.

On the drive home, it came.

The sideways talk.

I need someone who meets me.
I’ve done a lot of work on myself.
I don’t jump from one relationship to another.

I froze.

I didn’t fully understand the words,
But my body did.

I pulled my arm away from his touch.
He reached for it again and held it there.

The conversation wasn’t meant to be discussed.
It was meant to be delivered.

It was the way you tell someone you’re leaving
without ever saying goodbye.

After that, there were more sideways moments.

Plans spoken aloud that I couldn’t join.
Invitations are offered without being held.

And when I gently said how it landed for me,
The warmth disappeared.

No pause.
No conversation.
Just distance.

Then the discard.

The ending didn’t begin when things stopped.
It began when the talking stopped being direct.