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Archive for September, 2015

 
|| September 5, 2015 || 11:42 pm || Comments (1) ||

He watched her go down the halls, untethered and unawares. He watched her stand easy in her own skin, laughing with people, ducking her head and covering her mouth, mirth leaking past her fingers.

Everything about her called to him, and nothing about her knew it.

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She always appeared to be present in the moment, alive in a way that none of her peers had yet learned. There was a constant part of her, though, that was out there, called across the ocean, fixed on a heart that she’d fallen into unintentionally.

Because she was focused on the hum of it, on keeping that signal, she missed other more subtle intonations.

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He didn’t know what it would be like to be with her; he had not the first clue, but he wanted to know.

He wanted to know.

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She lit up when she saw him, warm with affection. She liked his unassuming way, and she saw the spark of quiet fight that danced deep in his eyes.

Others may have missed it, but she caught it.

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He woke up one day. He rolled over, face to the wall, and decided.

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She woke up one day. She was still asleep, adrift over the waves, holding signal.

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He had decided, so he watched. Today was the day. Everything in him was taut with knowing that, so he watched for the when of it.

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She gathered her things: a stack of three thick texts, a sweater she draped across her arms. She clenched her keys, oblivious.

The parking lot was big and quiet. The fall day was perfect, mild, beautiful.

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He saw her go out the side door. For the first time that nervous day, he hesitated.

The instincts he woke up with took over again; they propelled him forward.

“Hi,” he said to her as he caught up. She turned to him and squinted against the sun.

“Heyyy,” she said back.

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“Can I?”

“Hmm?”

She felt a strange skip in her middle when he stretched his arms out, “Can I take those from you?”

When they got to her car she unlocked it and turned to retrieve the stack from him.

“Wait,” he said.

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He sailed into it. He’d not rehearsed, because he was somehow wise enough to know that, in the moment, no amount of practice would matter.

He told her how he loved her, how he’d always loved her, how his guts fell apart at the sight of her.

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She listened, feet fixed to the pavement, car keys dangling in the door lock.

The look on his face: Far before he finished, the look on his face made her decide to sidestep her promise.

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Before he even knew they were coming out of him, he pushed the words toward her, bunched-up but sure: “I would give anything in this world just to touch you one time.”

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The hum was overtaken by the racket of a thousand angels shouting. They urged her to dive.