You know that moment when sensation knifes through the oily film—

Take for instance today, with its rain and fogged windows and cars splashing passersby in the street; and the smell of wet dog under armpits, and the plastic wrapper feel of clothes on skin. Take the light that pulses intermittently through drops of water, refracting each countdown at each traffic stop. Oh love, why did I forget to take a raincoat, and why is my umbrella filled with bent elbows? When did I last nuzzle my face into a fresh-made crater of bread, into the cool woven lattice of your fingers? Take this longing that trains its wet face toward each window, meeting its millionth twin and doppelgänger.

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