Tulips

when I fell in love.

I thought I'd fall in love differently. 

As he opened the book, the mildew scent tickled my nose. The gas-lit lamp flickered as he flipped through the pages, spilling misshapen shadows over my hands. My palms were uncomfortably warm and I resisted the urge to pull my hands under the table and wipe the clammy feeling off. 

I always thought it'd happen after a few coffee runs and dinner dates.

The heating system in the library let out a loud clank, startling me away from my over-aware fingers. It's warm copper pipes gleamed at me as the lamp light leaned towards it's direction. I scooted closer in. 

Maybe a friend would introduce us. Maybe we'd meet at a bar.

He laid the book down flat on the table, smoothing the pages with his gloved fingertips. Tilting his head back, he inhaled. The lamp flickered. Then quietly, the words on the page were gone.

I just always thought I'd fall in love in the typical way, with a semi-normal guy.

My stomach did flips... but not the good kind. It felt uncomfortable, like something was off. I looked at him, hoping my confused expression would clue him in and he'd start explaining. He didn't. Instead, he flashed me a wild smile and began excitedly removing one of his white gloves. 

Boy, was I wrong.

He pressed his bare palm down on the right blank page and suddenly the left page began to curl inward. Letting out a final grunt, the left page unfurled to be three times it's size. His nail scratched at right page and the left page shot straight out, almost towering over the bookshelves surrounding us. Giving me a final glance, he lifted his hand off the book, and the letters and words on the pages rained down the long, enchanted page. A sigh of relief escaped me. 

"See? That's how it's done" he said proudly.

It's funny though. Lately I've been wishing I had never met him. I wish I had just gone ahead and went to some cafe or bar and fallen in love like everyone else.

The page recalled into the book until it appeared like it had before. Eagerly putting his glove back on, he pecked me on the cheek. I pouted. 

"But I still don't get it."

That way it wouldn't hurt this much.

Closing the book, the magician turned back towards me and smiled.

"You'll learn eventually."

That way I could explain to someone, everyone, why things have changed.

Smiling, I rolled my eyes.

"Whatever you say."

But I guess life isn't like that. You can't choose who you love.