The Fact That He Loved Her

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The fact that he loved her. Just that little fact. It ment a lot. But suddenly live felt heavy. Not because of that fact. But because of the realization. Looking back he had been in love with her for ages. Since the moment they met probably. He just didn't want to admit it at the time.

Not just the fact that he loved her. But also the fact that he was so comfortable with her that he had started to like her more than somebody else. False! He had liked her since the moment they met, he had just said that. Then there was only one option left: they where destined for each other.

The fact that he actually thought that. It was stupid, yet it made him smile. It ment the part of his brain that produced fantasy and dreams was still intact. The rest of his brain? Not so much. Thinking straight was not an option at this moment, here right now.

The fact that she loved him. It made him happy. His face would crack open in a smile as broad as the horizon. The fact that she loved him even though there was nothing to love about him. It made him grateful. But what made not just grateful but also plain happy, was the answer she would give him when he told her just that. That little fact of him having nothing she could love. Every time he told her that her answer was the same. "That'd be what I love about you then"

The fact that they kissed. It made him nervous. What was she thinking about it? Was she thinking about it? How did she experience it. Made it race her heart like his? But most importantly: did she mean it. In his dreams the answer on all those questions was plain "yes", even on those who can't be answered by the three lettered word. In his nightmares the answer was an opposive "no", again, on all questions and, yes again, also on those who you can't answer with a two letter word. In reality, he didn't have an answer. He probably would get one if he just asked.

The fact that her head was against his chest. It made him think. "What will the future bring?", "what should I do tomorrow?", " what is the purpose of life?". The answer on those questions always varied, yet they always included her.

The fact that he loved her. It made him a living being, and honestly: that is enough to be happy.

Copyright © R.W. Emerald

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