when I first laid my eyes on his thick Arabian mustache, the first thing that came to my head was, "He could be the one. The one that chews my toenails off. The one that plays with my earlobes. The one that hits me with a spoon." I love him already. I love the way his hair flows in the wind and how the Egyptian desert sand from 2005 is settled evenly on his scalp. I was sure that I'd never need anyone else but him. He will play all roles in my life. Mom, dad, brother, and sister. But most of all, he was like a cousin to me. Every morning at 4:38 A.M., Israel and I would brush each other's teeth, feed the guinea pigs, and tie our legs together. We'd walk all the way around our farm about 7 times, and then we'd enter the woods. he would pin me against a tree, and whisper in my ear, "bush did 9/11." But one day, he said something different. He said, "I love you." I told him I wasn't ready for commitment, but he didn't like that, so he slapped me and told me to go inside. I ran inside and grabbed his shrine of his favorite love goats and got in my wagon. I tied a horse to it and made him run. I made it all the way to Connecticut, and started a new life. I never saw Israel again.
