DaSade and I get coffee on Sundays. It is our tradition; it's our time out together, to chat and process and just be in each others presence. Sometimes we have a lot to say, sometimes there are many quiet moments while we sit and look across the table at one another. Reading expressions, talking without saying anything. Hearing so much in just our breaths.
This was one of those times. We would have our bursts of conversation, but fall back into that appreciative silence.
There is a back corner of the coffeeshop we're in; usually we're sitting there at one of the tables a little further from the ears of others, but today, the room is being cleaned, so we are out front. My back is to that room, currently closed off by a sliding door.
“Look at the door behind you.” I give him an inquisitive eyebrow, not wanting to ogle something I shouldn't, but he's waiting for me to complete the instruction. I turn, and look for anything out of place, but it's just as it was before.
My eyes return to his. I don't speak.
His voice is low, words meant just for me, and he doesn't break eye contact:
“In your mind's eye...”
Magic words. Words that engage a special part of me; not by post-hypnotic suggestion, but purely by association, expectation, practice.