(no subject)
i wrote this paper on my "ideal mate"
Seeing through the Lens of a Camera called Life
Fall leaves seemed to bring the bliss of love into the air in England, people walked hand-in-hand down the park side walk as the wind blows their conjoined bodies backwards. Old couples happily sat on the benches holding hands and admiring the beauty of nature and all of its sweet sounds. Typically, I did happen to be the only one without the bliss of knowing my lifelong partner, nor did I expect to since I was those “work force” people where my only love was either the dog I’ve never had or my job. The reason I came to the park though, was to clear my head from the hard morning meeting at the local newspaper; being a photographer isn’t as easy as everyone believes. And so the park was the first choice, my favorite choice. Looking out to each and every part of the park makes me see pictures, snap shots in other words, that I could have taken while I walking. But knowing that this place was too sacred to me to put on the list of “picture-taking-places” for work; I smiled at the fact that this was all too surreal. The irony, I thought, that I’m thinking about work when I came here to not think about it at all. At this exact moment, I decided to go back to work to finish up on a couple of details that needed to clear up with the journalists that I had to meddle with.
But before I continue I should let you in on what my life has held for me in the last couple of years. I own a downtown London flat; one bedroom, two bathroom sort of place. I have the best furniture, cooking ware, and bedroom comforter this side of England has ever seen. I’m not so much into the whole drag of big technical mambo jumbo in this world’s economy, but I do own a laptop, T.V., stereo, ipod, and of course, a cell phone. My main collection of things that are of value to me are my cameras; fifty of them, in fact. Ranging in all shapes and sizes, in digital and in film; my entourage of cameras is the only waking thing that makes me happy. I like to not think about that, only because it seems a little odd that non-responsive objects take to my happiness, but what else is there? And at that thought, I feel myself wanting to run and rent a sappy love movie and eat a gallon of rocky road ice cream.
Enough with the depressions thoughts though, going back to reality…
So I make it into work, five annoying sets of stairs I have to climb, fifteen annoying minutes I have to bare, makes my job sound exciting already. The glass doors with clearly written engraved words saying “The London Tribune” makes me sigh at the defeat of my day going to another complete waste. Stepping into the swarm of people that were busily running errands, not to mention the phones ringing off the hook, and then you have the typical boss were they just lazily sitting in their desk chairs, waiting for the time in which they can call their day dreaming quits and get a beer or two at the local pub, gets me pumped to know what else is coming. Photographers are lucky to not be in the main issue of writing, we travel, hit the pub, travel some more, hit the pub again, and then come to the boss with all the pictures gathered from the last couple of days. I can’t complain about the pay either, I make more than some of these editors. And to think they put more effort in than I do, how sad. Any who, I walk over to Macy, my boss’s secretary, and ask her if the boss happened to be available to conference with, she said no. I decide in my head that the answer Macy gave me was the answer I wanted to hear. I can go home early to clean the house and make a nice dinner, I thought.
Well, I’ll give the reality check to you very lightly; it is very hard to go out to dinner these days. Saying “dinner for one” isn’t at all pleasing, and saying “dinner for two” just make everyone feel sorry for you when the imaginary date stood you up. If only it were that easy. Oh, by the way, I haven’t had a relationship since I moved over seas from the United States. Terrible, I know. I’m definitely trying to find someone handsome, who shows intelligence, and has a good sense of humor, maybe even shoots fire from his mouth or something the least bit exciting. The only problem is, that there is no where to find these men. I avoid the obvious places; clubs and pubs are so trashy. Finding a man in the local book store and/or coffee shop would be nice, but it is rare because there are not a lot of romantic things that can happen in a book store. C’mon, you drop a book, he picks it up and says “here you go”, cliché? I think so. Coffee shops do the whole spilling-coffee-on-one-another ideal, that doesn’t really appeal to me. “Let’s date!” isn’t the first thing that comes to mind in situations like that, I’d rather say “you just burnt me you ***hole”. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but I like it when the guy gets me coffee and doesn’t drench me with it. The only conclusion that I can make of couples that find each other that way, is that they have Parkinson’s disease and found something in common.
All of a sudden I hear my phone go off, it’s my boss. Great…I get to do a personal piece with a journalist. Journalists are always such drama queens. Have you ever noticed how journalists depict kids that hype up on too much caffeine and are annoying when they start asking questions constantly? Yes, these were the type of people I had to deal with. If my career precedes any longer than a decade, I think I might as well go and buy chill pills for them.
But like a typical personal piece begins, my fellow journalist and I, Andy is his name, go to an east side residence to pick up something interesting to fill in a little gap in the newspaper. I bring five cameras, Andy brings a little notebook and pencil and we’re set for the first interview. This story wasn’t any different than all the rest of the personal pieces; it’s the average “amazing kid”, the “hero”, or someone “suffering”. I could yawn over how many pieces I’ve been through with dogs saving a kid’s life. It isn’t so bad though, it pays the bills.
So after getting the story covered I go home to change for a party that my friend is having. She thought I would be a good idea to go and meet some new people. So I wore the average black dress and pumps, might as well look like I’m going to a funeral if I’m supposed to “meet people”. To put my interaction with people on a scale from 1 to 10, 10 being at my very best capability to meet someone, I would rate myself a 3.5. Not that I don’t like people, but they range from stupid, to arrogant, to annoying…it’s just too much to handle. I want to talk to someone who’s sane, alright?
7:00 on the dot, am I good or what? (Don’t answer that) I suppose I’m too early? There are hardly any cars here. Damnit Caitlin, you’re too early. Oh well, might as well go. I rang the doorbell; the average church-bell-ringing noise resonated throughout the whole house. Finally my friend, Becky, opened the door. She wore such a colorful dress, I looked down at what I was wearing and thought “why didn’t I get the memo?” We greeted and then headed to the kitchen to grab us some drinks, my favorite part of the night. Maybe now with a couple of these in my system I’ll be able to talk to anyone and everyone. As we were standing there, leaning on the kitchen counters, I heard this familiar laugh coming from the living room. I ignored the laugh and kept talking to Becky. She always worries about me, ever since I moved here to England she was my friend. Becky used to work at the local newspaper with me, but then quit to stay home and keep to her baby that she had. She was always so happy; I always admired her for that.
After a little over a half an hour pasted when her husband, Richard, came into the kitchen with a huge grin on his face. He asked us if we wanted to play charades with him and the people in the living room. I told him I was fine and that I’d watch. Becky hopped to her feet to join the game. After she left the kitchen, I filled my glass with another drink that Becky always keeps for me whenever I’d come over. Let’s just say it’s a nice welcoming gift. I chugged it and poured another, then headed to the living room. I walk into the brightly light room, red walls, beige carpet, old fashioned furniture, it was pretty. And never ceased make me feel that way every time I saw it.
So Richard was up first in the game of charades, of course Becky and him were a team. I could really see who the other people were for they were turned with their backs towards me. I felt fine about it though, the more I disappear the better for the social conversation. Becky guessed right so now it was another couple’s turn. A man with short blonde hair stood up, he was fairly tall and lanky. He turned around and oh my god…
I don’t think I could have kept my eyes off of him. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing…it was him.
I felt so embarrassed that I turned away looking for a place to go and ended up going back into the kitchen to regain my breath. Everyone just got quiet and asked the man in the living room what happened. No one knew though, I don’t think they had any idea. This man that was in the living room, with short blonde hair, was my first love back in the States. How could that happen though? How could he be here? I grabbed the bottle that Becky got me and stormed out of the house. Becky came running after me.
How was I supposed to explain to her what was was going on? I didn’t even know what was going on myself. The inside of me kept wanting to break free, I just kept drinking though. I left the glass inside in the kitchen, there was no use, I was just chugging it like it was the last drink on earth. Becky kept pushing me with questions; I told her I’m fine and was going to leave. Giving Becky a goodbye hug for now, I got in my car, and drove home.
I got inside and just fell on my bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. There was no use trying to talk to him, everything had been over for years now. He had the chance to call me, to keep in touch with me. He had the chance to be with me and he declined. And now he shows up at my friend Becky’s party and I’m supposed to believe that everything is alright. I went to the closest Italian restaurant to pick up as much food as I thought I needed, or I thought I wanted. I popped in my favorite love movie and just sat down gorging myself with food. No later than an hour went by did my door bell rang. I don’t have a peep hole, so I can’t see if I’m going to be robbed or just visited. So I cracked open the door and there he was. Why did he have to come? I was perfectly fine without him around…I managed for years and years without him.
I slammed the door shut, it was out of impulse. He knocked again and I opened it up after a half a second of contemplation. He leaned against my door way and gazed at me with those brilliant blue eyes. I reluctantly let him in; I sat back down on the couch and resumed eating my Italian food. I might as well make it look like I’m fine and that he has no effect on me.
He kept his distance for a little while, probably knowing that I’m not the same girl he used to know some five odd years ago. He looked exactly the same though, though he looked like he had everything in his life set. He dressed up nice now, collared shirts, tailored pants, dress shoes; it kind of made me want to fall in love with him again.
Trying to start up a conversation wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. He asked me how I was and what has happened with me in the years we were apart. I explained to him my job and what I’ve tried to accomplish. He told me his story, he moved to Washington because there was a big automotive industry there for him to be an executive at after a few years working there. He told me that he makes great money now and has gotten relocated to the western part of England to work with their sister corporation. The relation to going to Becky’s house was from him being friends with Richard. Since Richard is in the electrical engineer at the very same corporation.
For a while I didn’t even listen to what he was saying, I just thought about everything we went through. We had been together for nearly three years when we both had to go our separate ways due to money. Back then, he was working in a small shop in Texas repairing cars. I wanted things for us to be bigger so when I got news that I got the job in England, he said he didn’t want to go. And that’s when we broke it off. He was my last relationship and the most memorable. I snapped back to his conversation when he was finishing up the last of it. I only caught the part where he was talking about how Washington is.
We both kind of stayed silent for a while, I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t want to regret saying something personal when he didn’t feel the same about me like he used to. I ended it right then and there; it was of no use going any further when he didn’t want to come with me to England in the first place. I told him that it was late and that I had to go into work the next morning. He asked me if we could see each other tomorrow, and I told him no. I explained to him that he had his chance to be with me, and even then, he could have wrote to me or called me as a friend’s basis. So it was his fault that we can’t have a relationship, whether it is friends or more, because I have a job. And that was the most important thing in my life right now. He told me he understood and said goodbye. I closed the door and sighed at the relief that that was all over.
Weeks went by, it seemed like decades, though the thought of him filled my mind every waking minute. I tried so hard to get him out of my mind, but it was no good. I was hopeless; I let myself fall in love again, just to get hurt in the end.
I decided to take another stroll in the park…
I stopped over by Becky’s house to see if she wanted to join me. She was too busy with the baby to go out for a walk right now, but she’d call my cell phone when she had the chance to leave.
Walking through the park didn’t make me see snap shots anymore of the park’s loveliness; it made me see him, in every inch of space. I’d mistake him for another man holding another woman’s hand. Or I’d let my hopes rise whenever I saw someone with blonde hair in the distance. I needed a breather, so I sat down on the bench nearest to me. With my hands cuffing my face and my elbows resting on my thighs and try to pull myself together to realize that I’m alone. At that moment someone touched my shoulder, I looked up and it was him. At first I thought it was a figment of my imagination, seeing him there, on this side of town, at this exact park. He sat down next to me and pleasantly said hello. Out of temptation, the next action I took was out of character, for the records…but I couldn’t help it.
It was like, I was drawn to him. I placed my hand on his face and leaned in to kiss him. Oh no, oh no, I didn’t mean to do that…I didn’t mean to kiss him. I…I…oh my god Caitlin you really screwed up big time. What am I supposed to do? Um, I’ll walk away, that’s what I’ll do. No, no, I’ll just see what his reaction is. But what if he doesn’t feel the same way as I do,…oh god that would be embarrassing. I…I…
For the second that I looked at his face he was stunned. Absolutely, 100%, stunned. He snapped out of it and looked at me with this look like he couldn’t say what he wanted to say because it’d hurt me. I knew from that second on what he was going to say…but he beat me to it. He told me he was engaged.
My body wanted to stay there, my brain wanted to make him say that he wasn’t engaged, my heart was broken.
Tears start dripping out of my eyes, I simply told him that if I could lose you once, than I could lose you again. And with that said, I ran to my car, tears falling out of my eyes. I decided that it was time for change, and I convinced myself that that’s what I’ll do.
I spent a week packing, I left everything that I couldn’t fit in a suit case there. I said goodbye to friends, and I resigned from my job at the local newspaper. I was moving to a new beginning, again, without him. But he was out of my head, all I could think about was myself. I decided on Greece, so many amazing pictures come from Greece, so I sought off to get some of my own. All I had to do now was wait a couple hours for my flight to come to take me to paradise.
Sitting at the airport always makes me happy, so many people so many smiling faces,…
…No…it can’t be…
All of a sudden in a crowd full of people, he emerges. He stood out like a sore thumb, just standing there looking at me. But at the same time I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, I felt my eyes not wanting to. He started to walk near me, getting closer and closer to the chair that I was sitting at. He stopped and bent over to get closer to me, with his hand he rubbed down the side of my face. And then leaned in and kissed me. He pulled back after what seemed like an eternity.
And he simply said, “I have missed you”.
The End
Seeing through the Lens of a Camera called Life
Fall leaves seemed to bring the bliss of love into the air in England, people walked hand-in-hand down the park side walk as the wind blows their conjoined bodies backwards. Old couples happily sat on the benches holding hands and admiring the beauty of nature and all of its sweet sounds. Typically, I did happen to be the only one without the bliss of knowing my lifelong partner, nor did I expect to since I was those “work force” people where my only love was either the dog I’ve never had or my job. The reason I came to the park though, was to clear my head from the hard morning meeting at the local newspaper; being a photographer isn’t as easy as everyone believes. And so the park was the first choice, my favorite choice. Looking out to each and every part of the park makes me see pictures, snap shots in other words, that I could have taken while I walking. But knowing that this place was too sacred to me to put on the list of “picture-taking-places” for work; I smiled at the fact that this was all too surreal. The irony, I thought, that I’m thinking about work when I came here to not think about it at all. At this exact moment, I decided to go back to work to finish up on a couple of details that needed to clear up with the journalists that I had to meddle with.
But before I continue I should let you in on what my life has held for me in the last couple of years. I own a downtown London flat; one bedroom, two bathroom sort of place. I have the best furniture, cooking ware, and bedroom comforter this side of England has ever seen. I’m not so much into the whole drag of big technical mambo jumbo in this world’s economy, but I do own a laptop, T.V., stereo, ipod, and of course, a cell phone. My main collection of things that are of value to me are my cameras; fifty of them, in fact. Ranging in all shapes and sizes, in digital and in film; my entourage of cameras is the only waking thing that makes me happy. I like to not think about that, only because it seems a little odd that non-responsive objects take to my happiness, but what else is there? And at that thought, I feel myself wanting to run and rent a sappy love movie and eat a gallon of rocky road ice cream.
Enough with the depressions thoughts though, going back to reality…
So I make it into work, five annoying sets of stairs I have to climb, fifteen annoying minutes I have to bare, makes my job sound exciting already. The glass doors with clearly written engraved words saying “The London Tribune” makes me sigh at the defeat of my day going to another complete waste. Stepping into the swarm of people that were busily running errands, not to mention the phones ringing off the hook, and then you have the typical boss were they just lazily sitting in their desk chairs, waiting for the time in which they can call their day dreaming quits and get a beer or two at the local pub, gets me pumped to know what else is coming. Photographers are lucky to not be in the main issue of writing, we travel, hit the pub, travel some more, hit the pub again, and then come to the boss with all the pictures gathered from the last couple of days. I can’t complain about the pay either, I make more than some of these editors. And to think they put more effort in than I do, how sad. Any who, I walk over to Macy, my boss’s secretary, and ask her if the boss happened to be available to conference with, she said no. I decide in my head that the answer Macy gave me was the answer I wanted to hear. I can go home early to clean the house and make a nice dinner, I thought.
Well, I’ll give the reality check to you very lightly; it is very hard to go out to dinner these days. Saying “dinner for one” isn’t at all pleasing, and saying “dinner for two” just make everyone feel sorry for you when the imaginary date stood you up. If only it were that easy. Oh, by the way, I haven’t had a relationship since I moved over seas from the United States. Terrible, I know. I’m definitely trying to find someone handsome, who shows intelligence, and has a good sense of humor, maybe even shoots fire from his mouth or something the least bit exciting. The only problem is, that there is no where to find these men. I avoid the obvious places; clubs and pubs are so trashy. Finding a man in the local book store and/or coffee shop would be nice, but it is rare because there are not a lot of romantic things that can happen in a book store. C’mon, you drop a book, he picks it up and says “here you go”, cliché? I think so. Coffee shops do the whole spilling-coffee-on-one-another ideal, that doesn’t really appeal to me. “Let’s date!” isn’t the first thing that comes to mind in situations like that, I’d rather say “you just burnt me you ***hole”. Maybe I’m just old-fashioned, but I like it when the guy gets me coffee and doesn’t drench me with it. The only conclusion that I can make of couples that find each other that way, is that they have Parkinson’s disease and found something in common.
All of a sudden I hear my phone go off, it’s my boss. Great…I get to do a personal piece with a journalist. Journalists are always such drama queens. Have you ever noticed how journalists depict kids that hype up on too much caffeine and are annoying when they start asking questions constantly? Yes, these were the type of people I had to deal with. If my career precedes any longer than a decade, I think I might as well go and buy chill pills for them.
But like a typical personal piece begins, my fellow journalist and I, Andy is his name, go to an east side residence to pick up something interesting to fill in a little gap in the newspaper. I bring five cameras, Andy brings a little notebook and pencil and we’re set for the first interview. This story wasn’t any different than all the rest of the personal pieces; it’s the average “amazing kid”, the “hero”, or someone “suffering”. I could yawn over how many pieces I’ve been through with dogs saving a kid’s life. It isn’t so bad though, it pays the bills.
So after getting the story covered I go home to change for a party that my friend is having. She thought I would be a good idea to go and meet some new people. So I wore the average black dress and pumps, might as well look like I’m going to a funeral if I’m supposed to “meet people”. To put my interaction with people on a scale from 1 to 10, 10 being at my very best capability to meet someone, I would rate myself a 3.5. Not that I don’t like people, but they range from stupid, to arrogant, to annoying…it’s just too much to handle. I want to talk to someone who’s sane, alright?
7:00 on the dot, am I good or what? (Don’t answer that) I suppose I’m too early? There are hardly any cars here. Damnit Caitlin, you’re too early. Oh well, might as well go. I rang the doorbell; the average church-bell-ringing noise resonated throughout the whole house. Finally my friend, Becky, opened the door. She wore such a colorful dress, I looked down at what I was wearing and thought “why didn’t I get the memo?” We greeted and then headed to the kitchen to grab us some drinks, my favorite part of the night. Maybe now with a couple of these in my system I’ll be able to talk to anyone and everyone. As we were standing there, leaning on the kitchen counters, I heard this familiar laugh coming from the living room. I ignored the laugh and kept talking to Becky. She always worries about me, ever since I moved here to England she was my friend. Becky used to work at the local newspaper with me, but then quit to stay home and keep to her baby that she had. She was always so happy; I always admired her for that.
After a little over a half an hour pasted when her husband, Richard, came into the kitchen with a huge grin on his face. He asked us if we wanted to play charades with him and the people in the living room. I told him I was fine and that I’d watch. Becky hopped to her feet to join the game. After she left the kitchen, I filled my glass with another drink that Becky always keeps for me whenever I’d come over. Let’s just say it’s a nice welcoming gift. I chugged it and poured another, then headed to the living room. I walk into the brightly light room, red walls, beige carpet, old fashioned furniture, it was pretty. And never ceased make me feel that way every time I saw it.
So Richard was up first in the game of charades, of course Becky and him were a team. I could really see who the other people were for they were turned with their backs towards me. I felt fine about it though, the more I disappear the better for the social conversation. Becky guessed right so now it was another couple’s turn. A man with short blonde hair stood up, he was fairly tall and lanky. He turned around and oh my god…
I don’t think I could have kept my eyes off of him. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing…it was him.
I felt so embarrassed that I turned away looking for a place to go and ended up going back into the kitchen to regain my breath. Everyone just got quiet and asked the man in the living room what happened. No one knew though, I don’t think they had any idea. This man that was in the living room, with short blonde hair, was my first love back in the States. How could that happen though? How could he be here? I grabbed the bottle that Becky got me and stormed out of the house. Becky came running after me.
How was I supposed to explain to her what was was going on? I didn’t even know what was going on myself. The inside of me kept wanting to break free, I just kept drinking though. I left the glass inside in the kitchen, there was no use, I was just chugging it like it was the last drink on earth. Becky kept pushing me with questions; I told her I’m fine and was going to leave. Giving Becky a goodbye hug for now, I got in my car, and drove home.
I got inside and just fell on my bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. There was no use trying to talk to him, everything had been over for years now. He had the chance to call me, to keep in touch with me. He had the chance to be with me and he declined. And now he shows up at my friend Becky’s party and I’m supposed to believe that everything is alright. I went to the closest Italian restaurant to pick up as much food as I thought I needed, or I thought I wanted. I popped in my favorite love movie and just sat down gorging myself with food. No later than an hour went by did my door bell rang. I don’t have a peep hole, so I can’t see if I’m going to be robbed or just visited. So I cracked open the door and there he was. Why did he have to come? I was perfectly fine without him around…I managed for years and years without him.
I slammed the door shut, it was out of impulse. He knocked again and I opened it up after a half a second of contemplation. He leaned against my door way and gazed at me with those brilliant blue eyes. I reluctantly let him in; I sat back down on the couch and resumed eating my Italian food. I might as well make it look like I’m fine and that he has no effect on me.
He kept his distance for a little while, probably knowing that I’m not the same girl he used to know some five odd years ago. He looked exactly the same though, though he looked like he had everything in his life set. He dressed up nice now, collared shirts, tailored pants, dress shoes; it kind of made me want to fall in love with him again.
Trying to start up a conversation wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be. He asked me how I was and what has happened with me in the years we were apart. I explained to him my job and what I’ve tried to accomplish. He told me his story, he moved to Washington because there was a big automotive industry there for him to be an executive at after a few years working there. He told me that he makes great money now and has gotten relocated to the western part of England to work with their sister corporation. The relation to going to Becky’s house was from him being friends with Richard. Since Richard is in the electrical engineer at the very same corporation.
For a while I didn’t even listen to what he was saying, I just thought about everything we went through. We had been together for nearly three years when we both had to go our separate ways due to money. Back then, he was working in a small shop in Texas repairing cars. I wanted things for us to be bigger so when I got news that I got the job in England, he said he didn’t want to go. And that’s when we broke it off. He was my last relationship and the most memorable. I snapped back to his conversation when he was finishing up the last of it. I only caught the part where he was talking about how Washington is.
We both kind of stayed silent for a while, I didn’t know what to say to him. I didn’t want to regret saying something personal when he didn’t feel the same about me like he used to. I ended it right then and there; it was of no use going any further when he didn’t want to come with me to England in the first place. I told him that it was late and that I had to go into work the next morning. He asked me if we could see each other tomorrow, and I told him no. I explained to him that he had his chance to be with me, and even then, he could have wrote to me or called me as a friend’s basis. So it was his fault that we can’t have a relationship, whether it is friends or more, because I have a job. And that was the most important thing in my life right now. He told me he understood and said goodbye. I closed the door and sighed at the relief that that was all over.
Weeks went by, it seemed like decades, though the thought of him filled my mind every waking minute. I tried so hard to get him out of my mind, but it was no good. I was hopeless; I let myself fall in love again, just to get hurt in the end.
I decided to take another stroll in the park…
I stopped over by Becky’s house to see if she wanted to join me. She was too busy with the baby to go out for a walk right now, but she’d call my cell phone when she had the chance to leave.
Walking through the park didn’t make me see snap shots anymore of the park’s loveliness; it made me see him, in every inch of space. I’d mistake him for another man holding another woman’s hand. Or I’d let my hopes rise whenever I saw someone with blonde hair in the distance. I needed a breather, so I sat down on the bench nearest to me. With my hands cuffing my face and my elbows resting on my thighs and try to pull myself together to realize that I’m alone. At that moment someone touched my shoulder, I looked up and it was him. At first I thought it was a figment of my imagination, seeing him there, on this side of town, at this exact park. He sat down next to me and pleasantly said hello. Out of temptation, the next action I took was out of character, for the records…but I couldn’t help it.
It was like, I was drawn to him. I placed my hand on his face and leaned in to kiss him. Oh no, oh no, I didn’t mean to do that…I didn’t mean to kiss him. I…I…oh my god Caitlin you really screwed up big time. What am I supposed to do? Um, I’ll walk away, that’s what I’ll do. No, no, I’ll just see what his reaction is. But what if he doesn’t feel the same way as I do,…oh god that would be embarrassing. I…I…
For the second that I looked at his face he was stunned. Absolutely, 100%, stunned. He snapped out of it and looked at me with this look like he couldn’t say what he wanted to say because it’d hurt me. I knew from that second on what he was going to say…but he beat me to it. He told me he was engaged.
My body wanted to stay there, my brain wanted to make him say that he wasn’t engaged, my heart was broken.
Tears start dripping out of my eyes, I simply told him that if I could lose you once, than I could lose you again. And with that said, I ran to my car, tears falling out of my eyes. I decided that it was time for change, and I convinced myself that that’s what I’ll do.
I spent a week packing, I left everything that I couldn’t fit in a suit case there. I said goodbye to friends, and I resigned from my job at the local newspaper. I was moving to a new beginning, again, without him. But he was out of my head, all I could think about was myself. I decided on Greece, so many amazing pictures come from Greece, so I sought off to get some of my own. All I had to do now was wait a couple hours for my flight to come to take me to paradise.
Sitting at the airport always makes me happy, so many people so many smiling faces,…
…No…it can’t be…
All of a sudden in a crowd full of people, he emerges. He stood out like a sore thumb, just standing there looking at me. But at the same time I couldn’t take my eyes off of him, I felt my eyes not wanting to. He started to walk near me, getting closer and closer to the chair that I was sitting at. He stopped and bent over to get closer to me, with his hand he rubbed down the side of my face. And then leaned in and kissed me. He pulled back after what seemed like an eternity.
And he simply said, “I have missed you”.
The End