It's as if love satellites orbed two beating hearts to the intersection of us. And looking too closely in the mirror, we saw each others reflection. And our tomorrows collided like chemical elements in a centrifuge or something. Each of us waiting for the right time to tell each other we never want to look back. We speak a love language only celestial beings could understand. But if we ever say Pooky, the love satellites promise to call it quits and fall from the sky. Kissing a mole never felt this right. Will we ever look back?