Everything in Between

I remember flirting under dimly lit izakaya lights with the smell of chicken and bar-chatter wafting through the air. I had had enough liquid courage and your piqued ears were enough to keep me going. It was funny trying to stitch our two languages together. We kept dancing with the tip of our tongues and waving our hands like deaf Italians. Instead we wrote notes in sake of the things we were so desperately trying to say. But as we aimlessly strolled hand-in-hand through Tokyo's midnight mountain hues of red and green and all the colors in between we looked at each other and knew exactly what we wanted.