the spark we lost

3

We took the elevator up to Wien 11, and then you pulled open a window at the end of the hallway. "Someone showed me this sophomore year,", you said. "It's the most incredible view of New York City you'll ever see."

We climbed out the window, onto the roof, and I gasped. Smoke billowed up from the southern tip of Manhattan. The whole sky was turning gray, the city shrouded in ash.

"Oh my god," I said. Tears filled my eyes. I pictured what used to be there. Your hand found mine and held it. I stood there, staring at the aftermath of destruction , tears dripping down both our cheeks, for how long I don't know. There must have been other people there with us, but I can't recall them. Just you. And the image of that smoke, It's seared into my brain.

"What happens now?" I finally whispered. Seeing it made me understand the magnitude of the attack. "What's next?"

You looked at me, and our eyes, still filled with tears, locked with the kind of magnetism that ignores the world around it. Your hand slid into my wrist, and I rose up onto my toes to meet your lips halfway. We pressed our bodies together, as if that would protect us from whatever came after. As if the only way to stay safe was to keep my lips onto yours. The moment your body enveloped mind, that's how I felt safe, enfolded in the strength and warmth of your arms. Your muscles fluttered against my hands and I buried your fingers in your hair. And I forgot the world. At that moment, It was only you.

For years, I felt guilty about it. Guilty that we kissed with the world burning its way to the ground. Guilty that I was able to lose myself in you in that moment. But later I learned that we weren't alone. People told me in whispers that they'd have sex that day. That they conceived a child. They'd gotten engaged. Said I love you for the first time. We wanted to live that day, I don't blame us for it. Not anymore.

When we broke for breath, I leaned against your chest. I listened to your heart and was comforted by its steady.