There’s something mystical about an almost: being so tantalizingly close to something you want. Like you can almost feel it a hair’s width away from your fingertips; or taste it resting lightly on your tongue as a memory; hear the echoes of something like a song played too quietly across the room. It’s the hesitation before a kiss where the tickle of their lips sends a shiver through your body, resonating in the moment of almost. Almost is a hope-filled gold, luscious, liquid that fills our bones with potential and an incessant longing to be everywhere and nowhere as we stretch towards the edge of infinity.


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