I moved into his house 21 years ago, but we’re still not sure when he moved into my head. There’ s no anniversary for “here are the keys” or “would you like a drawer?” He just started randomly vocalizing my thoughts, usually during walks.

We spend less physical time together these days. The only real changes are the streets we wander, the bedrooms we share, and lately the language that stumbles across my tongue. One I know he doesn’t comprehend.

Strolling the streets of a Spanish village this Halloween, we had passed the occasional coven of pre-teen witches and random vampires doing some afternoon trick-or-treating.

We came across the poster child for cute outside a local shop, her dad watching from the doorway. Her pumpkin-faced grin was as wide as the Costa del Sol, wobbly on toddler legs, like a tipsy adult who’d just returned to land after a week of Rollerblading on a cruise ship. “Happy baby” energy swirled around her tutu, fairy wings and witches’ hat.

“¡Ganas!” I whispered, caught in the spell of her smile.  My partner-in-mind giggled as soon as he saw her, proclaiming, “You win!”

He still lives in my head, now with Google Translate.