A waltz, sirrah.

We sing to each other in the only music we know. Hers is not always (or often) the same as mine; I hear a synchopation where she's all about rhythm regular as a heartbeat. You can feel the pattern too, if you pay attention long enough: Our hearts hit the same beat every thirty beats, but on the 5th pass it'll hit on 31 or 32. The rest of the time we beat in perfect opposition, and the way I prefer to think about it is that each beat of the other one's heart fills the gap where the first is pausing.

That's what we're like, she and I. Not that we were incomplete before, but we complete and correct each other anyway.

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