It’s that space when the streetlights come on, dim at first, and balance between the sky, the headlights, and themselves, all bright all at the same time.

It’s that space between closing your eyes to blink and opening them again, to see if everything and nothing are just like they were before.

It’s that space between two people in mid-conversation; the invisible line that traces the connection from one set of eyes to another, a thin thread that you don’t want to break.

It’s that space between the jump and the landing, poised between grace and gravity.

It’s that space between one memory and the next, when faces and moments and feelings and smells and sights overlap, and the layers haven’t yet peeled away…