Lost in Ikea

As I synthesise to the music you played, my eyes seamlessly look for you to help me decide which of these ceramics would better suffice my needs.

I know you are close by since the music via our shared bluetooth still buzzes but you're hidden still, like that corkscrew I hoped to find. I call out your name while simultaneously bumping into strangers amidst the busyness of my hands that are handling with care.

I see you, I found you, I found what I needed the most. I uttered subconsciously "I missed you" as a momentary prefix to my long speech about why this bottle would best fit to "our" needs. You interrupted me with a "missed you too" before letting me ramble on.

The heart's dancing is plenty because now your presence is abundant.

Now, you are the second eye looking for "our" corkscrew.

How to express the sublime relief I experience knowing you'll find the needed,

knowing you'll be my eyes if I forget to look around,

knowing you'll be my hands if mine don't suffice,

knowing you'll be my legs if I am too tired out for the billing queue.

How to explain the subtle completeness the independent city girl in me felt while watching you pay "our" bills.

How narrowly anxious I felt knowing my attention to the station announcement is unnecessary because I'll receive my private invitation on its arrival regardless.

While we quietly walked our single way to a common abode I reimagined myself masquerading as a lost object that was finally found.

Found by you.

Image via Pinterest - Jeffrey Waller