We were at your friend’s house…You and I were laying on the couch watching a movie while he was in the corner finishing some English assignment that was already late. I don’t remember the movie…maybe it was Zombieland. You loved that movie…and though I never asked, I always hoped that if that catastrophic virus infected the whole of America, I would be the one person you would go back for. I tended to romanticize us… I tended to romanticize everything.

I never knew if you saw me in that way- like I was special. I knew that you liked me enough to show it in small and bizarre ways- like bringing me sour patch watermelons. You left them on my desk before class the way a cat brings a mouse to the door- unexplained and yet sweet in a twisted and intimate sense.

I remember that it was dark…it was early fall and just beginning to get cold early in the evenings. I remember that we were snuggling on the couch. It had taken us an embarrassingly long time to get to that point- but isn’t that the way adolescence is? Every moment is so long…so unsure…

So powerful.

A single touch could send me into cardiac shock. I remember the moment I decided to kiss you. I wasn’t smooth. I wasn’t brave enough for gestures or formalities. I counted to three….

and I shoved my mouth against yours. And I remember that my vision left my body so that I could see us as if we were in a movie- your shocked face, vanishing into tenderness and joy as you wrapped your arms around me and kissed me back. It wasn’t a great kiss. But it tasted like potential. It tasted like possibility and uncertainty.

But what I remember…more than anything else…was that after we had shared that first, unremarkable kiss…you and I snuggled together on that couch, staring up into the skylight in the ceiling of your best friend’s living room. It was dark, but we could see the moon and stars through that glass. I said “the sky is beautiful” and you said “yeah. It is.” But I know.

I know, deep down in my core, that neither of us were looking up at the moon. We were looking at the reflection of ourselves, entwined in that foggy glass…. a handcrafted crystal ball.

Offering us a fortune that never came true.


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