Perhaps I had almost said, Are you happy? And you had almost said, No. And I had almost said, Everything
seems to go badly. And you had almost said, I know.
Maybe I had almost said, Let me help you. And you had almost said, What can you do? And for
a time we had almost carried on this type of meaningless, insincere
conversation. Yet just
as we had almost stretched our arms to each other and supported something in
our joined hands, this very thing we were holding skidded through empty air before
evaporating like a gas that disappears the moment the sulky yet deceptive beauty of any almost becomes clear.
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