We are five year olds in the playground again, you are chiming, 'Who do you love who do you love who do you love?' My cheeks are stained so red they feel like berries on a summer day. I cannot look at you. I stare at the hole in my socks and fiddle with my hands, I wonder how the sky looks like in other countries, I wonder how I can say your name without stuttering. 'Is it me, is it me?' You whisper into my trembling mouth, every smile you've ever smiled is suddenly pressed against my teeth 'because it's you, even if it's not me, it'll still be you.