Part I — The First Bite
- Aug 17
- 1 min read
There is a strange innocence in beginnings. You don’t know which moments will matter yet.
A conversation is just a conversation. A name is just a name. You laugh, you linger, you find yourself wanting to say one more thing. None of it feels like a beginning because you don’t know you are at one.
I had no warning. No little voice announcing that this person will come to mean something to me. No way of knowing which ordinary moment I will someday return to and think, ah, there. Perhaps it started there.
So I kept going, blissfully unaware.
Before the wanting had a name. Before imagination got involved. Before I knew enough to be afraid of where any of it might lead.
Just those first small betrayals of indifference.
The first bite, before I knew I was hungry.