He bought her an ice cream, and she said, Some people would call this love, and he drifted off for a moment and said, Man that’s super cold.
Tagged: Love (951)
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That girl’s cute, he thinks. He walks toward her and trips on the curb and wants to die right there. She notices him. He’s cute, she thinks.
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She loved me. Until I didn’t recommend her on LinkedIn. But I’ve never worked with you, I explained. She told me I didn’t understand “life.”
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The sun came out and it illuminated everything, even the dirt, and in its warmth lay the grand promise of living. And we went for ice cream.
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I told her I didn’t care anymore. She said, Is it the soup? It wasn’t the soup. It was everything else. It was me. But the soup wasn’t good.
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She says, I love this, and he feels a warmth inside, ready for the next phase of his life, and he hugs her and she says, I meant my sweater.
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Dessert arrived and I put a piece in her mouth and she moaned. Then she said, This is what love tastes like. And I took that as a compliment.
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When they were radiant, love was easy and laughter easier. They ate brilliantly and travelled to bright places. But then they got really old.
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He did his Elvis impression. He was naked and he shook his hips and she laughed. Thank you very much, he said. Then she called him Fat Elvis.
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And then we ran out of love. The last few years had been about the slow realization of the power of gravity. I really missed her lemon tart.
