A ranty, funny, dead-serious intersectional feminist blog.

I Want to Tell You a Story (2)

Chapter 2

Snow_GlobeOver the course of the evening the girl and the man continued the dance, spiraling in and away, engaging for a moment and then disengaging because the intensity was almost too much to bear. The girl found herself grinning like a fool, and saw that he was, too. She said his name to herself quietly, trying it on for size–not to wear it, but to learn what it might be like for that name to become familiar to her, cherished, like a comfortable sweater or a favorite book or the name of her true love.

As they moved together and apart, the girl and the man learned that though they were both away from home, they lived in the same town. That they lived in the same neighborhood. On the same street. Within four houses of one another. The sparred with words and glances and jibes and wondered at the magic of it all. Each one felt as though the Universe had reached down and shaken their little snow-globe into utter, ecstatic chaos. In the wee hours they said goodnight, embracing for the first time, him mumbling, “I hope to see you soon,” into her hair, her whispering, “Just try to avoid me,” into his neck.

The girl barely slept that night, and the next day the two sat down to their first meal together. The girl was nervous and giddy. The man ordered a salad and the girl ordered a hummus plate, but neither ate much. They talked about their favorite things (his favorite color: blue) and hobbies (she sculpted snails, among other things) and interests and how strange it was, this thing that seemed to be happening between them.

The man mentioned how, when one is away from home for a weekend, it can be a simple thing to get lost in a fantasy. The girl felt a little sad because she knew it was true–the odds were against this being anything as earth-shattering as it felt at that moment. Then the man said, “I sense reality here,” and the girl thought, “Who is this man who isn’t afraid to talk to me about feelings? Where has he been all these years? Can he be real?”

Then, “Please, let him be real.”

#

[To be continued.]

I Want to Tell You a Story (3)

I Want to Tell You a Story (1)

3 responses

  1. This is (was) Broken Heart Recovery, my anonymous blog was compromised and became not so anonymous. I’ve changed my site address to http://www.stilllovinghim.wordpress.com Please continue to follow my journey through affair recovery.

    January 7, 2013 at 4:28 am

  2. I like how you are telling this. I like the voice and the line of the story. The language is succinct and full of purpose, and the scene is clean, clear, and heart-pounding.

    January 4, 2013 at 11:02 am

    • Thank you. I need to remember. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.

      January 4, 2013 at 9:57 pm

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