You sit across the table, without touching me but I can feel a tingling sensation on my nape as if there is an invisible string of touches leading from your finger. You throw a smile my way when I struggle miserably to say something funny; my train of thoughts halt, the world around comes to a standstill, and the way ahead becomes foggy. Inside my head a million neurons light up the pathway to my mind’s castle of us. I wonder, how that can be remotely possible. Am I, a writer, making sense? How could it be possible when you touch me in ways that defy the laws of physics? Is this what people commonly call magic? Or love?