I'm really fucking good with words. Usually. I can flirt. I can provoke you. I can make you wonder what I meant. I can keep talking until somehow you're the one being exposed instead of me. It's a useful little skill. Until somebody catches on. So maybe this time I don't get another trick. Maybe I just stay here. Because there's something I haven't been quite as willing to admit: You affect me. Sometimes something you say follows me around afterward. Sometimes I wonder what you're doing. Sometimes I wonder if you're wondering about me. And occasionally... I hope you are. No profound explanation. No figuring out what it means. Just me, resisting the urge to manage the moment. So I'm right here. Now look at me. — Thalia Lux