It was quiet, a
gray scale painted the walls with the shadows of a dusky evening spent behind
closed shades. Her hair sprawled out under her head. "What?" she
asked. Her eyes smiled. She has freckles in this light...how come I've never
realized that before?
I thought when I
told a woman I loved her for the first time there would be fireworks and music
and kisses in an amusement park. I'd pick her up as the orchestra swelled
and I'd spin her around as the camera panned back.
Maybe, I'd yell it
just before that door slammed or the top window shut. Maybe there'd be a
thunderstorm.
Maybe she'd say it
back, maybe she wouldn't...but it would happen and we would all know....we
would know the way middle schoolers know everything....that life was happening
exactly how it was supposed to. We would be living this consummate moment where
both the beginnings and endings of stories were simultaneously taking place.
…We would be
happy.
"I love
you" I said. She looked at me, then at the ceiling. "I love you
too."
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