"I created you."
His back was turned towards me, his voice both conversational and shy.
My hand touched my throat. My mind touched a million scattered experiences that have conspired to form this version of me standing here, listening, forgetting to breathe.
He waited for a response I could not articulate, and then he continued. Other offered words - descriptors offered as definition - dreams given life by air moved across the room to enter into me.
I fell to a crouch, hands raised to his warmth. Oh, if he were to turn, to see me wanting to believe, my heart might shatter for its last time.
Through the prism of my eyes I saw him starting slowly to turn..