Would we do it if we knew the end?
Would we do it if we knew the end?
It's late in the afternoon of a brisk summer day. I'm closing the door and leaving for the last time. She's yelling at me for hurting her.
It's a mundane evening, as I'm turning a corner and almost running into a cute girl with nice eyes and a cute smile. I'm apologizing while she's laughing nervously at how close she was to being hurt.
Sitting across the table from her out for dinner, she's telling me of the thing that's been hurting her. I'm listening and just being there.
Ten minutes before I'm offering to be there and to listen and she's telling me she'll never be able to confess her hurt to anybody. She's barely whispering her words.
She's shouting now. I'm sitting in a car, engaged in some useless shouting match over something petty. Her eyes are flashing, becoming dark. They're staying dark.
Three hours before, I'm lying on her couch. I'm yawning with exhaustion while she's looking at me. She's smiling at how tired I am. Her eyes are smiling too, bright with joy.
I'm lying on my couch, the phone is ringing. It's her, she's telling me to come over and see a movie.
I'm talking on the phone again. She's telling me what happened during the movie was nothing, as she was drunk. She's telling me I should have known.
We're watching a movie. She's resting her head in my lap as her hand is gripping mine as I'm wrapping my arms around her. She's smiling happily.
She's smiling as we're standing in Canadian Tire, buying the baseball glove I've discovered I need.
We're playing catch with only one baseball glove on her back lawn. We're agreeing that I need to buy a baseball glove.
The glove is resting on her stairs as she's telling me to take it. She's telling me she doesn't want anything of mine around.
We're filling up a garbage bag of things that remind her of her hurt. I'm joking that she'll get rid of things that remind her of me someday. She's telling me that that will never happen.
It's late in the afternoon of a brisk summer day. I'm closing the door and leaving for the last time. She's yelling at me for hurting her.
It's a mundane evening, as I'm turning a corner and almost running into a cute girl with nice eyes and a cute smile. I'm apologizing while she's laughing nervously at how close she was to being hurt.
Sitting across the table from her out for dinner, she's telling me of the thing that's been hurting her. I'm listening and just being there.
Ten minutes before I'm offering to be there and to listen and she's telling me she'll never be able to confess her hurt to anybody. She's barely whispering her words.
She's shouting now. I'm sitting in a car, engaged in some useless shouting match over something petty. Her eyes are flashing, becoming dark. They're staying dark.
Three hours before, I'm lying on her couch. I'm yawning with exhaustion while she's looking at me. She's smiling at how tired I am. Her eyes are smiling too, bright with joy.
I'm lying on my couch, the phone is ringing. It's her, she's telling me to come over and see a movie.
I'm talking on the phone again. She's telling me what happened during the movie was nothing, as she was drunk. She's telling me I should have known.
We're watching a movie. She's resting her head in my lap as her hand is gripping mine as I'm wrapping my arms around her. She's smiling happily.
She's smiling as we're standing in Canadian Tire, buying the baseball glove I've discovered I need.
We're playing catch with only one baseball glove on her back lawn. We're agreeing that I need to buy a baseball glove.
The glove is resting on her stairs as she's telling me to take it. She's telling me she doesn't want anything of mine around.
We're filling up a garbage bag of things that remind her of her hurt. I'm joking that she'll get rid of things that remind her of me someday. She's telling me that that will never happen.