She said, "You know something like
a dollar or a piece of paper or a plastic bag
that you try to pick up on a windy day,
you get close to it and just then it starts
to move away and you're looking completely
ridiculous chasing this bag around a parking lot?
Every moment you think it's rested from the wind's
gust, and your outstretched hand goes for it,
it moves suddenly, you know? That's how you
are every time I try to get close to you."

He stared out into the distance.

"I feel ridiculous trying to pick you up,
running around in this parking space of hearts
and fears and everything in between where Leprechauns
and golden nuggets of happiness are kept, demons
and otherworldly things lurking around bends
and shadows and every spooky thing hide. I
just want to catch you; I can't. I can't. And
I feel ridiculous at times, I do. I really do."

He stared out into the distance.

"You have nothing to say?" she said.

"It feels funny to me, that you think you're the
chaser," he started. She swallowed. "I always
assumed you were the wind," he said.
She believed her heart just stopped then.