You were in the orange jacket. I was in the blue dress, which by hour three was basically a blue tent over my head. We were hanging from the ceiling rails in Bay 4 when the second wave hit and you grabbed my ankles to stop me from swinging into the vending machine. You said "I've got you" and I said "thank you" and then we just... stayed like that for forty minutes because neither of us knew the etiquette for letting go.
We talked about everything. Your job (something with aquatic surveying?). My cat. The fact that the shelter still had those posters up from the '09 event. You said you liked the way the blood rushing to your head made everything feel honest and I've been thinking about that sentence for three weeks.
When they gave the all-clear you were in the medical line getting your ankles checked and I couldn't find you in the crowd. Everyone was walking weird. I should have waited.
Orange jacket. Bay 4. You smelled like hand sanitizer and something warm I couldn't place. Please.