Today was a two kiss day. One before Michael went off on a run into the soggy sweatbox of late morning. It was a day worthy of building a bridge over the river Kwai. Lawrence of Arabia wouldn't have gone for a run on a day like today if they had Lake Erie humidity in the desert. A day that was giving me palpitations. These are the palpitations I am prone to in heavy heat + pollution, accompanied by shortness of breath, which means I should use my inhaler. Unfortunately I always forget that the inhaler is what I need until I have half convinced myself that I've developed a heart condition between the bedroom and the kitchen.
"If you drop dead in the heat, don't call me because I will kill you for even attempting this," I rasped.
"Are these the suitcases that go in the car?"
"Yep." And I was off for the airport. Kiss number two. I bumped to a landing in jaw clacking jumps through powerful clouds over Kansas City, MO. Heavy shouldered clouds that looked perfectly capable of transporting me to Oz in a flying house. But instead, I was safely transported to the Marriott in a black cab.
Millions of these kisses are exchanged between loved ones everyday. Thoughtlessly. Almost a reflex. Do we do it because (morbidly) it might be our very last chance? If so, we ought to make it more of a Hollywood moment. Or is it more of a superstition, that this little lip buzz will keep a body safe?