It was the way your hands, like basketballs on top of your twig wrists, unconvincingly protected your chest
…with your face downcast in anticipated shame
…while your eyes angled upwards, calculating the way I was already judging you
And those momentous steps you took towards me
…failing to maintain your practiced smile as your limbs turned to rubber:
…a limp leg raising your socked foot to my face
…as your torso fell backwards—on the verge of collapse—to keep your balance.
But mostly it was how you demonstrated what you COULD do, without doing it
…letting me know that I COULD take it, if I chose to
As you never moved your eyes from mine
…and laughed when you saw I was okay with it.