we left the restaurant and stood on the curb, and as i searched his face for an expression i could read i chided myself for being such an incurable sap, but i couldn't help it. under the circumstances, we really had very little opportunities to be with each other alone, and in some delusional way i likened ourselves to pyramus and thisbe, or romeo and juliet. it's forbidden love. well, not really. or not at all, but god, what a thrill.

"what are you thinking about?", he asked, walking me down the cold concrete, into the shade of a beautiful flowering tree. us, i thought instantly, but the word never left my lips. people were used to, were fond of seeing him with her. but she was hurting him. at least that's what i used to think, with my usual martyred air. i...and he...and her...on again and off again and on again like those mad christmas lights in red and green and gold--psychosis! that is what it was.

"i'm thinking about you. i'm glad you came.", i said finally, drawing near to where i could feel the warmth seeping through his clothes. "oh," he grinned sheepishly. "i'm sorry i was late."

he stared at me suddenly, and i shivered under the intensity of it. he leaned in, tilting his head just so...and then a car whizzed past, startling the both of us. our laughter echoed softly under the din of the city, and i felt his arm circling my waist. and then he plucked a flower from overhead (it was rather cinematic, really, the sound of the bough snapping back into position, the leaves whispering against each other). i think he told me that i was beautiful. he told me that, often, and i always knew he meant it, and it always made the heat flood upwards to my cheeks.

i don't remember every single detail. the moments were liquid (they blurred in technicolor hues) and i was happy. how wonderful to be like this and not think about whether he had any regrets about what he had done, and whether he was missing her while he was with me.

on the way hime i snaked my arms around his neck and he was smiling at me in a very fond and familiar way, whispering now and then that he very much liked being with me. i felt a pang in my chest and knew that at this point in my life i needed him more than i'd ever needed anyone. did he feel the same way? sometimes it seemed like i knew exactly what he was thinking, or what he wanted. other times, he thoroughly confused me and i spent hours on end trying to puzzle him out. he kissed me when he dropped me off, and it was soft and moist, long and lingering. i was more than disappointed when he finally let go, and remained standing as i watched the taillights of the car fade away into the night that was all too short.

with a sigh, i threaded my fingers through my hair, looking for that flower which i had planned to press and preseve. but it wasn't there, it must have fallen somewhere along the way, tumbled into some shadowy place by an errant breeze. and all that remained were those precious few moments, thrumming like a secret in my veins, branded as if by fire (or love, come to think of it) into my memory.

Christine del Castillo