Nonplussed

It was at The Cake Shop in Manhattan, two years and two days ago when you asked if you could kiss me. It was early spring, and warm enough to get excited about being outside, but still chilly: you slipped my hand into your jacket pocket with yours to warm me up. I remember passing a Bionicle DVD via interoffice mail, pilfered transparencies printed with Uncle Scrooge and Daisy, and the flush I felt pressing ctrl+u to follow your breadcrumbs.

Over the time we've known each other, I've come to learn some things about you. You love to look and you love to be caught looking. You play your cards so close they form a brilliant plumage. You get what you want, and I love you all the more for it.

You and I enjoy games; we share a healthy jealousy, and I've never been happier in my life. This is what I live for. You are the good one.