the silence before the laugh is a stretched thing, like pulling taffy until it almost breaks, it's too much, all of it, the held breath before something bursts, like a balloon maybe, or a feeling you can't name, it makes the skin on my arms prickle, not unpleasantly, but…aware, that awareness that follows you around like a shadow even when you’re trying to feel that furious green, priya's laugh makes it all go away for a minute, but it comes back doesn’t it? always. and then what? what then?