It started with a look. A realization that something was amiss. What is it? I don’t know. Well, I’m always here to talk. A week passed, but nothing changed. Life went on. But the look remained. Are you sure you’re alright? Yeah, I’m fine. Well…ok. Over time, the look changed. But still, life went untouched. Can I talk to you? Sure. Hearts fluttered; stomachs churned; faces flushed. Feelings poured; tears fell. What do I do? You pray. Voices whispered pleas to God, and life continued to move. But as weeks passed, the look was mirrored. Hey. Hi. Short conversations, shakiness where there once was comfort. Distance was made. I need help. What’s up? Conversations paralleled; hearts dropped. I don’t know what to do. Let’s pray. Feelings festered as the time neared. Two bodies avoided contact, until the day before the end. Then the stars collided. Sorry! No worries. A pause; eyes cast about. Hey…can I…can we… Sure. Off into a corner. Shaky breaths, faltering fingers, tired eyes. I love you. I love you. A confession in unison. A moment of silence. No… A moment of fear. Why… A moment of realization. What have we done? Backs slid down the wall. Heads disappeared into arms. Sobs echoed. Footsteps approached. Em? Tay? What’s wrong?
“Have you ever wondered why there aren’t two Eiffel Towers?”
I stopped fiddling with my phone and stared over at her, raising an eyebrow. “What?”
She tapped her finger on the glass window of the cab, pointing towards the huge metal structure in the distance. “Two Eiffel Towers.” Turning around, she shot me a thoughtful look. “You know, Paris is the city of love. All those couples climbing up the tower, holding hands, looking out over France; they have each other, but the Eiffel Tower is all alone.”
Leaning back against the seat, I gazed at her in faint amusement. “What made you think of that?”
She turned back to the window and pressed her forehead against it. “I don’t know. Just seems kind of ironic. It supports so many things–people–that have something, and it doesn’t even have something for itself.” She fell into silence, staring out at the tower.
“Well,” I replied slowly, keeping my eyes on her profile. “Maybe its something is the city. Your something doesn’t always have to be the same as you. Maybe its something is the one place that keeps it together: Paris.”
A small smile cracked on her lips, and I could see the solace creep into her eyes. “Yeah,” she answered, finally looking away from the tower. “Maybe.”
He found the note taped to his bedroom window. Where it came from, he hadn’t a clue, but still he read the messy handwriting smudged with ink.
“Let’s do something tonight. You and me. Let’s teepee your neighbor’s house. Let’s hitchhike across the country with only 50 bucks in our pockets. Let’s graffiti the overpass on the freeway, or race carts in the grocery store and start a food fight. Let’s stand on the edge of a skyscraper and pretend to push each other off. Let’s get drunk in the dark and laugh till our heads can’t take it. Let’s drive off to nowhere and stick our heads out the windows, going 90 miles an hour. Let’s blast the music so loud the neighbors call the cops. Let’s buy plane tickets to Italy, or take a boat out on the ocean. Let’s hop on a freight train and hang off the sides. Let’s do something. Tonight.”
He shook his head in wonder. Only one person could write like this.
“You’re insane,” he murmured, folding the slip.
A bang of a door, a jingle of keys, and a ghost of a knock later, he peered down at her face in the shadowy doorway, eyes glinting gold amongst brown.
“Let’s do it all.”
Ooookkkaaaayyy, I’m officially resigning from the controversial-post-sphere. Bringing Wonderland back to it’s happy-go-lucky state fo sho. Seriously, though, it’s totally out of character for me to publicly disclose my opinion on popular controversial topics, particularly because I often fall into the “liberal” category, and apparently not a lot of Christians like that…? Besides, it gives me major anxiety and knocks me out for a while, so don’t ask what dark force possessed me this time, I have no idea. (To be honest, *whispers* I’ve had a constant stomach ache since I last posted and it sucks. Anyone else with an anxiety disorder?) I do a lot better with things like milk vs. dark chocolate and Harry Potter vs. Lord of the Rings, so I’ll just stick to that.
In light of that…here’s something short I wrote a while back.
Continue reading “Judgement”
I kept my heart in a box.
Every morning I’d open the lid and wind it up. It would creak and whizz, as if it would soon shudder to a halt, but it never stopped running, and it always kept me alive.
Until, one day, it was gone. The box lay empty on my bed as I thrashed the room, searching high and low. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I fell to the floor, screaming.
Who would take my heart?
I waited for death, but it never came. Then I heard a soft whisper.
So I raised my head and gasped.
You held my heart in your hands.