Three little words. I write them then erase them, and then write them again. This time I push harder into the notebook with my pen, indenting the next sheet underneath. Permanent, perpetual, indelible. Insignificant markings in my small leather notebook carry immense weight, the burden of my thoughts and immeasurable feelings. I cannot bring myself to say the words out loud, because that cements them into reality; a harsh reality where they can wreak havoc and disrupt the equilibrium of my existence. My thoughts are no match for my indolence.
My state of rumination is broken by the resonance of the doorbell, a tidal wave in the ocean of my mind. I place my notebook in my back pocket and open my phone's camera to check my hair before greeting Sage. She stands on the doorstep to the side of the door; her shoulders are hunched, and a small smile consumes her face. Even though she has been to my house many times, to spend the night even, the thought of us having been together for the entirety of a year overwhelms the both of us.
I lead her up to the spare room, where a canopy of fairy lights reflects the constellations on her cheeks. The tartan picnic mat that I had laid out fills the floor, leaving room only for my record player and a stack of vintage novels. The scent of the night fills the room as it floats in through the open window, the half-moon casting a sepia glow onto the ivory walls. Sage smiles, and I see the universe in its completeness.
Sage lays down on the centre of the mat, and I reach over her to place a vinyl onto the turntable. The sound fills the room, flowing between us like oxygen. I am levitating yet tethered. The spare room at the back of my house becomes the solar system, and I am dancing from planet to planet in Sage's totality.
I prop myself up and retrieve the notebook. It feels forbidden, sacred, ponderous. I am not inspired by religion, yet I find myself praying that Sage doesn't notice the tremor in my hand as I place the notebook into her palm.
She accepts the gift and raises her eyebrows quizzically, expecting me to say something. So, I do.
"When I am with you my soul is alight and infinitely burning with the magnificence of a thousand suns. My heart is a rose garden, incessantly in bloom. Sage Violet, you have brought me life."
I fall back on my hands and gaze up at the ceiling of stars.
"Wow, that was pretentious even for you." Sage beams.
I stand up, taking an exaggerated bow.
"I do try my best," I feel my cheeks flush as I re-join her on the floor.
My heart beats wildly as Sage opens the book to the first page, inscribed with three little words.
She whispers them back.
