hope

Kian, he said, like Ian with a K.
I met him on the ocean, on the boat I took to see the whales, and fell in love with his voice and the warmth in his skin. After the whales, when I was still shivering from cold, I stayed on deck to sit with him. Our homes are separated by land and by ocean, but here we sat heads together and talked about the world.
Later, we met again at the wharf where you come to see the fishing boats and watch the seals open and close their nostrils and look at you with soft brown eyes. We talked some more, and I took pictures of seals and of seagulls.
I should have taken his picture, instead I took pictures of fishermen.
Now we send emails, mine long and detailed, too eager, his short, utilitarian, but still kind. I use many words, he wants only a handful.
I've build us a life in my head, but I don't tell him.