It's going to take me a long, long, LONG time to trust you, he said.
"Okay," I nodded.
Like maybe 10 months. Or 8 months. Or 12 months. Or maybe longer, he warned.
I weighed this carefully, squinted my eyes a bit, nodded again.
"That sounds reasonable," I said.
"This isn't something we want to rush."
He glanced sideways and eyed me up with all 12 years of tough dontmesswithme secrets
and the words came pouring out-- slowly at first and then
all at once, like dark descends on nights without stars --
wholly encompassing breathtaking endings -- but somehow also
like breathing into the comfort of knowing that
here, where we stand
is also valid.