OVER AGAIN

LOOP

Only together for seven weeks, the end of the week would sign their two months. Tilda couldn't have so much knowledge without having been told.

Weston caressed his shirt's pocket as he came to join her on the bed.

"Tilda."

"Yes."

"ーEm, before I start, let me tell you I will accept any punishment you'll inflict me, I apologize in advance if I sound like a complete nutter, but it's something I need to clear up before proceeding with the other crazy thing I want to do. What's even crazier is after this, you might not want to be with someone as insane as me."

Tilda tightened her grip on the T-shirt she was holding; her heart raced. The questions were going to come out again, with all the pain and sorrow they carried. Of all the scenarios, this one was the hardest to bear.

"Go ahead."

"Tilda, you know I love you unconditionally. When I look at you, I don't see Tilda Brentwood, but my half, you are half of me. It's crazy because I've only known you for eight weeks. You know, I've been having these weird dreams and visions of you, of us. I don't understand theyㅡthey ーfrighten me at times."

"Weston."

The man began to pace, "and you do things, good things, but odd things,ーI mean, you are aware of what's going to happen.

More wrinkles appeared on Weston's face as he tried to organize his argumentation before pursuing, "like the other day when you pushed me aside when the teen rode by on his micro-scooter, and I've never seen you search for anything in this house."

Weston stopped, approached Tilda, and knelt in front of her, "you know where everything is, and oh, there's my book. How did you get into my computer? I mean, the screen was on standby. You needed the password. How did you?"

Once again, Weston was up and pacing around.

"Weston, please sit down."

There was no stopping the man who carried on, "Tilda, I'm not accusing you of anything; I just want to know. I need a rational answer so that I can put my mind to rest because with these flashes and the things you do, and I've got to admit it's freaking me out."

"Westonㅡ."

"Tell me, Tilda, please," Weston said as he came to kneel before her taking both her hands in his.

"You told me."

"Whatㅡwhat do you mean? I told you."

The tears were already leaking as she pursued," you told me the first time."

"What? I don't remember having said anything."

"You did the first timeㅡ."

"What first time? Tilda, I don't understand."

For once, Tilda's stared straight at Weston as she answered, "the first time we went through this."

"Tilda, what on earth are you talking about?"

Tilda let go of Weston's hand and got off the bed. Weston followed, gripping her by the shoulders, "Tilda, don't run, talk to me, please. I can see you're suffering; you think I don't know. You sometimes cry while cooking or in the middle of the night. Please, Tilda."

The silent tears became big whaling sobs. Weston let go of her and walked to stand close to his bedroom window.

"You and I, we've met before, we fell in love andー."

"And what?" Weston searched Tilda's face as if the answer would write itself upon it.

"We've lived these eight weeks before."