There is an eyelash on your cheek, but I’m not going to brush it off, because I haven’t seen you in a while and I don’t know if we’re there yet. And I don’t want to offend you. Tell you your lashes are falling off like leaves in September. Remind you that summer is over and it’s getting colder.

And anyway you’d have to make a wish, and maybe blow your lash from my finger. And maybe this isn’t the right time for wishes. Wishes are addictive but they are not real.

So instead I keep my gaze on your eyes as we talk, and occasionally glance down at your cheek to check that the lash is still there, and it is. And I try to speak with a bit of gusto so that I might accidentally blow it off, but it doesn’t work.

But then you start to cry a little and you wipe your face with your palm and you take the lash away. I make a little wish on your behalf.