Would that be okay with you?

She holds onto me, searching in my eyes. I wonder if it scares her that I stay in my head for too long whenever she asks. It is a sign I take too long when her inner brows start bending upwards and her eyes start filling with worry.

“Ask me something specific.”

She breaks away with a blink. Her hand slides to my chest. “I... I don’t think it’s good for me to ask, because if you answer, then it makes it real.” 

Places move, emotions shift. Now I am the one who’s scared, staring right back at her. 

“Real?”

“…Yes.”

Did she not want things to be real? 

I listen to her and with little time I am spending with her now, it will not amount compared to the world we live in. Billions of years of existence and we only occupy the smallest fraction of it and it shall never be known by those who have lived, live, and yet to live. 

Our togetherness will never be known to mankind. Would that be okay with you?