I was leaning in. Engaged, until I saw you.

You leaned back into the corner of the small room.

You held your phone up to your eye and pointed your lens in my direction.

I got distracted, absorbed into the softness of the moment.

I saw that mid morning light was not trying very hard to get in through the blinds.

You saw that what light did make it through was warming me up in a soft swath against gray walls.

 They say that the Native Americans used to believe the process of taking a photograph of someone could steal their soul.

You snapped your photograph.

I felt a catch in my soul.