cerulean

she was thankful, she said. it meant a lot, given everything, and maybe she was a little bit sorry for her anger after all. it was nice to see a full circle return to sanity, refreshing to witness what once seemed impossible transform into tangible reality.

“i think i’ve been better, haven’t i?”

i couldn’t and wouldn’t argue, but i would absolutely change the subject.

“i’m a six point five today.”

“i was just about to ask you.”

i thought about how peculiar it all was. i interrogated myself internally about how we ended up this way and if any of it was meaningful or purely coincidental. i tended to choose significance over chance when asked to wager a guess on the intentions of the so-called universe.

“how do you want this story to end?” she asked randomly as spring snow fell from a cloudless cerulean sky. 

she seemed to view life through a fairy tale lens, speaking as though she were rapunzel and entire lives could be simplified with long locks and open windows. on top of that, i hated fairy tales. i told her as much.

but for me, she’d never cut it, she swore. never.

with that, clearly missing the point, her pinky curled into a promise. i feigned a smile and returned the gesture, effectively sealing the deal. i decided not to mention the fact that her heart was beating audibly to a ferocious rhythm of uncertainty and i used to be a drummer.

i'd be thrilled to hear your true, uncensored thoughts. i'd also love to read your writing.