. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . where ImagInatIon comes to play

Monday, March 24, 2008

She asked him, v

.
She asked me if I loved her. I was mute. But it wasn’t indifference that silenced me. When the door closed behind her, I didn’t move. I mean, I couldn’t move, you know? My entire body numbed out, brain included. My heart, on the other hand...

How could I explain to her what my lips couldn’t carry through for me? I had never felt for anyone the way I felt for her. Maybe that was the problem. Well, that and the simple fact that the word itself – love? – was not one I had heard before, not really anyway. Not even growing up. I suspect my parents loved me...hell, I don’t know...no one said ‘I love you’. I don’t know why. And that night, when it mattered the most, I...I...couldn’t. Shit! I fucked up, you know? And I'm so sorry and I l--

It was only later I remembered she had driven home with me, and I live far from the nearest station. She must have taken a cab home. Right? God, she better be okay. Please be okay ‘cause I couldn’t forgive myself if you weren’t okay, if.. Just please be okay.

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