JaynAdams
"I waited all day--all day here for you. Do you have any idea what I've been through?"
I rubbed my arm, attempting to be ashamed, but more reminding myself of the bruises that bloomed on my arms. I returned to you, I survived the trials and I would never let you know. I pushed my violently finger-knotted hair back.
"No, it must have been awful. I'm sorry, my love."
"It's like, I'm reaching, but I'm just missing the ledge. My arms windmill as I fall and fall and fall and fall but I wake up when I hit the surface of the water. Did I survive? Did I die?"
You stroked my hair, shushing lightly. "It was just a dream, my little love-- little love, little love, little love. It's okay now, now, now, now."
You're echoing
(?).
I flail more frantically as you hold me.
"Okay, so what you do is pour that slowly--Slowly! Nonono, not that breaker! Where are your goggles!?"
I frowned, holding the breakers and flasks in the lab at the University. "I'm never going to learn this--I'll never be as good chemist as you are."
You sighed, mopping up the thick fluid on the table top. "Yes you will--let's give it another go."
"I love Stoppard, don't you?"
"I really didn't understand what was happening--did he rip off Dr. Who?"
I cackled as we waited for the cab, our theater best fluttering in the cold wind. You frowned, folding your arms.
"You laugh, but the Doctor is real."
They say there’s an ancient connection between people. I don’t know if it’s fear or sadness or loss, but it’s there. It’s under your nails and in your hair and between your ribs.
Maybe it’s love, I thought as I ran my fingers though your hair as you slept on our sun-faded couch. I was looking for traces of the substance on you, in you.
Maybe it’s love.
There's an ancient connection between people. I don't know if it's fear or sadness or loss, but it's there. It's under your nails and in your hair and between your ribs.
Maybe it's love, I thought as I ran my fingers though your hair as your slept on the couch, looking for traces of the substance on you.
Maybe it's love.
"My back and legs are killing me today!" I said as I straddled and came to lay over your prone form.
"Maybe you're growing--truth is sometimes stranger than fiction."
You guffawed as my face grew bright pink.
"Disgraceful--travelling salesmen didn't have to worry about getting shot at back in my day."
"Dad, salesmen used to have to travel thousands of miles and fend of highway men and marauders and maybe be beheaded along the way for salt"
"Nope."
Somewhere in the room you snorted, covering it politely with a cough.
"There's nothing I'd like more than the be here, right now."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing. Well, maybe I'd like to be in the air and not waiting on the tarmac, but not really."
"Oh shut up and read your book, you romantic old sod."
“I’d never given any serious thought into running away, especially not with you.”
Hah, cute. I sipped from my drink before he continued.
“But I think I was wrong. I want to. I really want to.”
I choked on whatever I had in my mouth, running to the sink so I didn't spit it all over his pretty face. “BEG PARDON!?”
"Let's run away--like you said."
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