It's something humbling, perhaps. Glimpses of a you that never knew me, a you caught up with a life - a cast of places and people - that I had no place in. Past loves, favourite songs, important conversations - a trembling certainty that, like a Venn diagram, there's a part of us each that will remain forever untouchable. Your past is something that is unchangeably yours - frozen in time like the colour of your hair when we first met, like the distant thoughts in your eyes when you look away, like the misunderstandings and expectations borne of different lives. It hurts, somewhat; that no matter how close I pull our fingers together, our hands remain ours each, ours to press together and ours to pull away. It's the beauty and the tragedy - the fleeting tenacity of your arm around mine; moments of intensity here today, gone tomorrow.