one month had gone by rather fast
him: you have to go!
me: who says?
him: me! i'm not letting you miss this!
me: it's just a dance.
him: no it's not! it's the christmas dance!
me: so? that changes nothing.
him: santa could be there.
me: god forbid you ever have a mature moment.
him: that's it, we're going.
me: no.
him: i'm going to drag you there if i have to!
me: you wouldn't.
him: fine, i get it. i shouldn't force you to do something that scares you.
me: finally, you see reason - what do you mean it scares me?
him: you're self-concious and too scared to go, i get it.
me: shut up, i'm going.
him: there! now you can't take it back!
me: i hate you.
him: i know.
( his smile is unbearable.)
scribbled over the back of a postcard from france
YOU ARE READING
little talks
Randomi needed to write down almost everything he had said, to reassure myself that he had been real, that we were something that lasted; at least for a little while. - nina [ © jude rigor two-thousand-&-thirteen ]
