otherwise perfect, this
moment became something
wholly unexpected
when the words
drifted from her lips.
well, i shouldn’t say
that it was
wholly unexpected, but the
timing most certainly was.
the question brought
me back in a
way that usually only my
memory can.
“remember what we talked about that one time?”
that’s what changed
the moment.
and that’s not exactly
what she said, but
it’s a close enough approximation.
“yeah,” i said.
“when do you want to do it?”
“i don’t know. when do you think i should do it?”
“anytime between now and whenever.”
again, that’s not exactly
what she said
but it’s not the
exact words that matter.
“soon,” i said.
“i want to know, you know, just to be sure.”
her eyes nodded
and she disappeared from
the room,
off to check her
notes from
that first time.
while she was gone
i felt as alone
as i did that other
moment back then,
but not because i
was the only one
in the room.
my thoughts didn’t
allow for anyone
else at that
moment, and for that
i’m sorry to both
of them,
one looking in
the mirror, unaware,
the other with
her hand in mine,
causing slight physical pain
in an attempt
to relieve something worse.
but it’s as if
i wasn’t there.
i was above my world,
(them)
floating on my
back, the cool mist
of the clouds
enveloping the me that
wasn’t me.
seconds later
the door opened,
and she was peering in,
holding what she
went to get.
i hit the ground
with a thud,
but nothing was
broken. of course not,
i reminded myself.
i wasn’t really where
i felt i was.
in my hand now.
it’s the list.
the list of words
i’d seen before,
this time
on a different
piece of paper,
in a handwriting unusual
for someone in
her profession
(or so the stereotype goes).
i stared at it.
two thoughts:
1. this list has killed.
2. this list could **** again.
(that exactly how i said it in my head. that word doesn’t exist in scenario #2. it can’t. it won’t).
i know it’s
better to know,
but do you ever
wish you didn’t know?
yeah.
me too.