Here's another quick peek at Dancing in the White Room. In this snip, Bell has come back from Alaska.
He looks as though the Alaska Mountains have leaned hard on him. His collarbone sticks out like a hanger for the T-shirt he wears. His eyes, usually bright enough to catch me up, sag heavy over deep lines.
I’m gathered into him before I have the chance to say anything at all. He smells of sweat, I imagine how many hours he’s spent crumpled in an airplane seat. For a minute, I want all time to end here.
He kisses my forehead, and I burrow into the hollow of his arm. We stand there for an endless amount of time.