There are several roles you put on during the day. The most emotionally demanding usually happen at night, when your profession, ambitions and aspirations, true-to-self persona are less of a foil : you could be yourself or who you want to be, seduce, amuse, quiet down. As if the world is yours – it is also more frightening at night.
A calendar will tell you that there are times to celebrate. Consequently, If someone steps into your life and you are somehow, somewhat convinced that they should stay, being joyful together is a good step to take. Like when you say ‘’hey, where are you taking me to ?’’ but you are the one pulling on the hand, widely smiling with delight.
One great thing about beginnings is that you get to set the tone. Such perilous scheme is arguably an evidence of how sweet or sour things could turn — but that is another, if not every story.
There is nothing confrontational for them yet. However, there was also very little discussion. Neither could yet tell if it was a good or an absolutely negative thing, for they were floating with their feet on the ground. That, at least was her perspective. It was the opposite of panic.
Thus, the question, almost an accusation was not fraught. It came late night, in the middle of conviviality, blunt, impromptu.
“Why haven’t you wrote anything about me?”
A sober mind would have easily broke it down. It has not been long (enough), also this inquisition supposed that the person asking has read or at least extensively skimmed through a wide-ranging bibliography, which would be rather surprising, almost disturbing.
The midnight hour did not allow for so much logical reflection. The examined tried to be concise. It took her a little silent time, where she was not aware she was being stared at. She was deeply lost in her thoughts, digging and digging for an answer that would do justice to the bubbly truth.
“Writing about something you don’t know if tough”, she began. “And terrifying”.
The embrace sat still.
“I don’t know you. Yet, I’m in this, already, present. I just never knew love like this”.
The interrogator seems to have forgotten the question already. He doesn’t budge, only tries to ease without words the trouble he can grasp coming from that answer. Nothing happens, the joy doesn’t shatter. It is time, already, to keep the party going.
Later, she will think back and state clearly: This is what happens when I love you.