The kiss I like the most is one of the slow ones. It's as much breath as touch, as much no as yes. You lean in from the side, and I have to turn a little to make it happen.

There has to be a moment at the beginning when you wonder whether you're in love with the person or in love with the feeling of love itself.

If the moment doesn't pass, that's it -- you're done.

And if the moment does pass, it never goes that far. It stands in the distance, ready for whenever you want it back. Sometimes it's even there when you thought you were searching for something else, like an escape route, or your lover's face.

She has been hanging on to the hope of him for so long that she doesn't realize there isn't anything left to hope for.

That's the dilemma, isn't it? When you're single, there's the sadness and joy of "only me." And when you're paired, there's the sadness and joy of "only you.

The word I think of is precarious. I am struck by how precarious it all is. How the things that hold us are only as strong as the faith we have in them.

Remember that at any given moment there are a thousand things you can love.