numbus
He always tried to ignore it. He jumped ahead, to a time that would end. He would think back to the beginning, about everything that started, and how it started with her. He couldn't let go. He was too afraid of what came after. Or maybe he was too naive, and there was nothing after. So then he skipped back, to a time that would begin, and he made the most of what he had. And he had her.
There was so much that I put into her. She was my master. What was the oddest about this was that she loved me back. There was so much we shared. I could stare into her eyes and make us equal, even for just a moment. There was something about the electricity that coursed my head that overloaded and blacked out. And it could never be. She acted like my friend. She acted like a sister. She acted like a mother. She acted like my master. She was like a goddess.
It was very hard to understand, at first. She scanned it over and over. What was wrong? Something was tugging at her and it made it unnerving for her to be present. She wanted to step off, turn around, and walk away. But she stood still. She was stuck. She could not walk out, not on him. And in that moment, it made sense. It was him. That was what was complex. Suddenly, it was simple.
I felt my knees buckle. My chest was burning. I felt it true, for the first time ever. And as my heels pained, I was seeing the sky unveil before me. I felt the pressure build up against my ears. As I continued, I felt a burden loosen even as I tired. My shoulders were relieved. I could finally see the top. I was climbing higher and higher.
I cooked. It's what she loved. That was what she loved about me, so I cooked. I cooked all night, with the radio on and jamming to my favorite tunes that I could remember listening to as a teenager. Old memories came in: Going to high school, my first girlfriend, my first kiss, my first dance, my first award. But when the meal was done, and I walked through the door, her seat was empty and the coat rack sat coatless.
When he claimed that the object as his, everyone stopped in awe. Only about one fourth of the audience believed that he was lying. But why would he lie? Not in front of his community? Not in front of his wife? Certainly not in front of his children! But a man does what he must, if he wants a world of his own. And to do so, no matter what the cost, he must make the claim first.
He hinged on to her. How could he not? He was just in love, that's all. It was just an instinct, and that's it. He felt danger, competition. Something had ticked him off. And now all he felt for was the girl. But she was the danger. She was the competition. She was the lie... And most of all: She was the lead.
The lily field was the first place they met. It was their favorite place to go to if they were having a bad time, and usually at the same time. They would always coincidentally meet up. But when the fires hit and the lilies were gone, so were other things... And the mans guilt grew stronger to the death of the lilies and his love.
The oil, oddly enough, is what kept them together. Such a simple material item is all it took. And yet as simple it was, it was the most complicated, greedy thing that could ever exist. But when he quit his job at the oil refinery, she gave up. She could not stand it anymore. The fine, black liquid meant everything to her, and meant more than her man... And she realized that it was not the man, but it was the supply that defined the man.
He could not stand her. He can't believe it as he was now. The first time he met her he got all these warm, fuzzy feelings whenever his eyes laid a chain of locked love on her. But now she yelled, she talked, she whined, she complained... as if she was going out of her way to annoy him. He'd rather be deaf than to hear her yap all day about how he had changed and that nothing was the same as when they were younger, but it has only been four months...
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