A Love Story

She wants me to come over to her place every day around three, and every morning, I tell myself “No, not this time”. But then the day wears on, and the loneliness comes, and the sadness comes, and the boredom and all of the oh-what-the-hells. I start to think about how good she makes me feel, and then all of my other options fail to measure up, and that’s when I start to really WANT her.

I always make plans to do other things; start a project, call a friend, go for a walk. But I don’t do them anymore. My friends are getting fewer, because I don’t show up for dates. I make them with good intentions, but then she calls and wants me, and I can’t refuse.

When I arrive each day, she holds me in a way that makes us one. We transcend above my body, and the loneliness and sadness fade in the distance below. I am happy and productive and normal again. I feel like I can make anything happen; and tomorrow I will. But then as the afternoon grows dark, and we just lay there together, I realize we have nothing to talk about, nothing in common, and nothing to do. Yet, I’m stuck with her until the morning, until she decides to unlock the doors, until the sun breaks the night. The loneliness returns, and I feel sick, with nothing to do but maintain a tab of the hours that I’ve wasted; lost from a life forever.

It’s almost three o’clock now. She’s calling. Today, I am NOT going. My cats sit on the kitchen floor and watch me as I write this, but all I can see is her.


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