The words catch in my throat. I am squeezing my stomach, squeezing my neck, trying to force the air to pass through my body. Trying to force the words to pass from my brain to my mouth to tell them what I am. Who I am. They take another bite of bagel in the silence, looking out onto the street. People walk by and the late morning breeze makes the sunlight dance on the sidewalk through the leaves of Linden trees planted along the roadside. I take a long, small sip of coffee, sitting in the silence as though we're just enjoying a quiet moment together as friends. Which we are, I suppose. Or at least they are. I am hiding roiling turmoil behind a mask of serene indifference. They take a deep whiff of the crisp air. A contented smile plays on their lips.

"It's a nice morning," they say. A small shudder of anxiety rattles my insides.

"It really is."

I could make it last longer. An eternity. Our whole lives. I could take their hand and slow everything down. We could walk through the city and no one would see us, just an occasional blur whipping past them. I could slow it down entirely until time itself seemed to stop and we could spend an entire day together in a matter of moments. I could take their hand and terrify them with the unknown, reveal myself as an unknown betrayer, a keeper of secrets, a liar by omission. With a touch and thought, I could show them something about me that could explain so much. Something that the fear stewing in me tell me could cost our friendship.

"So, what do you have going on today?" they ask. They've turned back toward me, brushing small circles around the holes of the metal table secured to the patio fence with plastic-coated aircraft cable. A waiter stops by to check on us and we both lookup and smile and say great, thank you.

Sitting in my car, listening to one of many stolen radios for a public emergency to respond to, I think. "Not sure," I say instead. They give me a long, expectant look. They've locked their gold and green eyes with mine and take a sip of their coffee.

"Something is bothering you," they say. Fuck.

"Yeah," I say. I try to find something else to look at, besides their intense, lovely, probing gaze. They reach across the table and touch my arm. Their warm fingers feel like soft electrodes, and a shiver of delight passes through the nerves on my forearm out to my whole body. Breathe deep. I slide my arm down until their fingers are on my hand, and as I look up at them I rest my other hand on top.

"I'm gay," I say. Time stops as I say it, my powers flexing and expanding outward from me as a feeling of release overcomes me. A version of me, dark and faceless, untethers himself and expands, dissolving until he's become part of the bubble that slows spilling drops of mimosa, the flapping of wings, the harried pace of shoes on concrete. They smile placing their other hand on top of mine.

"I'm gay," I say again, tears filling my eyes, "I'm gay," they squeeze my hands tears filling their eyes now, "I'm gay," I'm practically shouting it now, and I keep saying it and we stand up, both crying and laughing and it goes on for who knows how long because what does time mean in a moment frozen?

"I'm gay," I say, taking another deep breath and guiding us back down to to our seats, "and I love you." They smile gently, grabbing of my hands in theirs and kissing them each in turn. As I begin to relax, coming down off the cocktail of neurotransmitters and hormones that has me riding high, time gradually resumes its normal pace. A woman next to us shakes her head, no doubt confused by how our hands seemed to move from one position to another faster than she could blink.

They pick up a napkin and gently wipe the moisture under my eyes, and under my nose and I laugh as I swat their hand away and take it in mine again as I do. They open their mouth as if to speak, close it, squeeze my hands tight with another small smile, and then pull their hands away, wiping away tears as they do. I can see them struggling to say something now, though I think I know what it is and it hurts a little, but it's fine. I shake my head, put my finger to my lips. They smile and their shoulders drop, settling back into their seat. I take a sip of coffee, and they take a bite of bagel, and the two of us sit in contented silence watching the light dance on the sidewalk to the white noise beat of the waking city.