For the first time that evening, I was left alone to contemplate. My heart was skipping and my feet were wet, caught in full lotus on the couch by the window. I was out of breath from laughing, and left alone to contemplate. Your bare hands were warm and shaking, trembling under the weight of my fallen head. My cheeks were pink and frozen, soft against the moon and winter wind. Your fingers soft against my back, and I was left alone to contemplate. I found a way to levitate every time you touched my neck. I lost all sense of self each time you touched my ear. My fingers began to wander, and I was left alone to contemplate. And by the end of my introverted meditation, I began to think of different things. Of bigger things and funnier things. Of silly things and things I cannot speak of. Of how I would do it to you.