Screws

Screws

I believe the hundreds of little, unnoticeable things in human relationships is what truly makes us remarkably social creatures. Without these little things, the relationship collapses, just as a house with no screws collapses. Sometimes I find myself recognizing the change in my voice that was originally the way another friend of mine speaks, or I end up predicting the next subject of discussion because I've been so exposed to this circle that I'm familiar with each interest and what each interest could potentially lead to. Some things are less noticeable, like the concerned eye of a concerned friend across an unconcerned room, or the trust that hangs like ribbons in the air above a messy circle of kitchen chairs talking about the future. All of these inferences to a larger construction of love is what holds that construction together. Without them the grand design crumbles into a heap of splintered wood, sparkling glass, dust, floorboard, and plumbing. People think it's the paint or the interior decorating or the flowerbed that ties the home together, but I think they're wrong. I think it's the screws.