IS THIS LOVE? / THIS IS LOVE.

Dear?
she said sweetly,
interrupting our thread of conversation about the genius of Nassim Taleb, or Gladwell's new essay on young men and violence, or the sadness of Godard and Truffaut's friendship over time, or something of the sort.

She said this very sweetly.
Yes?
I said, keeping my eye glued to the road ahead, hands at 7 and 6.

The speed limit's 70.
she said.

Yep.
I confirmed.

But if you want to go 60,
she said.
That's okay too.

Okay.
I said.
I just get to talking with you and the world slows down.

Actually,
she said.
I don't think it's the world that's slowing down. That's you driving really slow.
____

Note: I completely fabricated her last sentence. It just seems like it could have been an interesting thing for her to say in the moment. Maybe we'll talk about it on the way to somewhere today, or tomorrow.