8.9 magnitude earthquake

My brother’s hands tremble like holding a fault line during an 8.9 magnitude earthquake and I call it love. She makes him all nervous with her every falling eyelash and even if she’s hiding her eyes, mistreating her body as if its collateral damage, he takes her hands, as though she were the earth, forcing his nerves to stop making sinkholes just to make her feel safe. Last night, he asked me if he’s allowed to call her beautiful. I told him, “Only if you think she’s rain. Only if you think she’s every space of the sky after a thunderstorm.” His face cracked with a smile out of foggy mornings and mist as he says, “I think she’s more than that. I think she’s every word she doesn’t like to hear and all the words I’ll make out of her, just so I could make her feel anything, even if its less than a drop of air passing in her ears.“
—  A Conversation About Love by Kharla M. Brillo