I tell him I want to run, and he asks where I'm going, how long, if and when I will come back. "Everywhere," I said. He walks me to the parking lot.
Under the flickering streetlights, he holds my hand. "You can run to the second speed bump," he says, "and just to be clear, this one is the first speed bump. That's the second." He gestures with his hand which is my hand, and doesn't let go when I move to run. Our fingertips still touching, I tell him, "I could learn to love you like this."
"Really?"
"Yes."
I run. My shoes slap the pavement. At the second bump, I stop and turn around.
"I love boundaries," I tell him, and he walks me back in silence.