us.

If you were here you’d be sitting right across from me on this chair. We’d be sharing this piece of caramel slice and you’d probably call me greedy although deep down you would like the fact that I’m stuffing my face with so much sugar. We’d tease each other a lot the way we always do. And occasionally I’d look in your eyes a little too long, and I’ll remember how I like you so much more than you let me, so much more than I ever expected. And I’d also look at your lips when you talk, and think of the last time we kissed, the last time we slept together. Our love will come surging back like a tidal wave; but it’s always been there, only more quiet, perhaps like an ocean on a calm summer morning. We’d talk of our day and of our plans and of our hopes and of our failures; of the weather and of the plants, of the birds and of the water. We’d share our childhood memories as we stare across at the park quietly, and eventually we’d fall silent, both of us lost in thoughts, yet comfortable in each other’s company. Then we’d stand up and decide to go home, and we’d walk side by side, smiling; not speaking, just smiling; and not holding hands – just being. We’d head back home as the sun sets. In the car, we’d listen to music, tapping our hands, feet or fingers along to the beat, or singing along maybe. We’d play our game of “guess the composer” and fail miserably. Or you’d challenge me to spot a blue number plate before you do, even though we both know you always win. And my eyes will be focused on the road but sometimes you’d turn your face and look at me for a second or two, and smile, and I’d ask you “what?” and you’d just say “nothing”, and I wouldn’t push it. We’d arrive at your home and you’d remove your seatbelt and breathe out, and look at me and smile, asking for a hug. We’d lean in each other and for a moment there, our arms would be wrapped around each other. And you’d pull away and open the door and get out, and press the lock button down before shutting the door because you always remember the lock is broken, and we’d just say “see you later” without even knowing when we’d see each other next, but knowing there will always be a next time …

 

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