I’m not your average skateboarder. I don’t “dress like a stoner.” I don’t “know how to skateboard.” I don’t “disrespect authority.” I’ve never “been on a skateboard.”
I’m not your average skateboarder. I don’t “dress like a stoner.” I don’t “know how to skateboard.” I don’t “disrespect authority.” I’ve never “been on a skateboard.”
“Do you want to know what I fantasize about these days?” She asked, her voice quiet and gentle, as she watched him took a sip of his morning coffee.
He placed the cup on the table and looked at her. Silence was the only answer he could give her. For he was afraid. Afraid to ask of her. Afraid to know. Afraid to lose.
“You,” she said eventually, “and me.”
“Us,” she continued,
“I’ve been fantasizing about us running by the beach, hand in hand, not giving a damn about the world.”
She reached out to hold his hand on the table. She wished she could hold these hands for eternity.
“I fantasize us happy. Really happy together.”
He tightened his hold on her hands, brought them close to his face and gently kissed the back of them.
“Do you want to know what I fantasize about these days?” She asked, her voice quiet and gentle, as she watched him took a sip of his morning coffee.
He placed the cup on the table and looked at her. Silence was the only answer he could give her. For he was afraid. Afraid to ask of her. Afraid to know. Afraid to lose.
“You,” she said eventually, “and me.”
“Us,” she continued,
“I’ve been fantasizing about us running by the beach, hand in hand, not giving a damn about the world.”
She reached out to hold his hand on the table. She wished she could hold these hands for eternity.
“I fantasize us happy. Really happy together.”
He tightened his hold on her hands, brought them close to his face and gently kissed the back of them.
“I don’t know what love is, but love knows who I am and has called me precious. The illogical song spit forth from the author of time, and though it makes no sense I love the way it gets stuck in my head.”
