The Littlest Things

Magic Box

“Kiss me. Then maybe I’ll remember,” he said.

She fell silent. A kiss? She hesitated. Surely, this is his test. He’s testing her, trying to see if she’s willing to do anything and everything just to bring back his old self. So she gazed at him, deciphering his guarded face, searching his features for any hint of “I’m joking” or “never mind.” But he simply returned her gaze as if goading her to make the first move. There’s some sort of amusement in his eyes, though.

“Is he teasing me?” she wondered. But his face looked serious, and she sensed a note of urgency in his voice. Her knees felt like marshmallows all of a sudden. Her cheeks burned. Still, she can’t bring herself to do it.

She began to say, “Maybe next t—“

But he cut her short. For in the narrow spaces of the magic box and between the faint light peeking through its holes, he decided. He moved fast and gently grabbed her. With reckless abandon. Like a rocket ship to the moon. And kissed her.

Long and deep. For the first time. Amateurish. But with all his heart, his soul. With all of what’s left in his mind. He kissed her with all of him.

And as her tears rolled down her cheeks that’s pressed against his, and as he gently held on to the only thing he ever so passionately wanted, they both felt it – the sudden rush of all great things: memories, miracle, magic. Love.