The exact moment someone averts their face from yours on a sidewalk.
The smell of winter on the back of fall. Not the smell of pending snow, but not quite the aroma of leaves long decayed.
The texture of an unwanted kiss.
The loose feeling in the lower pieces of yourself when you lose a loved one—almost nausea, almost desire. An un-knitting.
The process of replacing dated photos with new ones in your home.
The perplexed sensation of heat and chill weaving in and out of skin and flesh while trying to sleep with a sunburn.
The satisfaction of clicking a pen closed.
The satisfaction of saving—command + s—a Word file.
The sensation of falling out of love with a close friend.
The moment after you stub a toe; the moment before the pain rushes on.
The moment a wave pauses on the beach, then rolls back out to sea.
The shutting of a door in which you never re-enter.
The first turning of the ignition in your first car.
The weak, warm, weighted, wonderful feeling in the eyes after reading or writing.
A moment of true, intentional connection.
The instant a tree sprouts from a body of water.