Meadow

We went for a trip during the first baby steps of Fall. The Sun was still shining, but the captured moments between Dawn and Dust were only few in numbers. They were too short, mostly situated indoors even though that photo shoot session on the lake could be count as an exception. We were too lazy to drive, we stopped at every public place that exuded warmth on our way back home. This time, it was a shabby bar. The way back felt like longer than its original length. Make that double, you said. I did not know whether you were referring to the road or to the whiskey you just ordered.

We fell asleep in the car. Our alcohol induced brain could not take any part of the handling heavy machinery work, so we opted to park on the side road near the bar. The next morning I woke up first. It was the hour of the wolf, actually. I got tired of waiting for you to wake up, even though counting on your eyelashes underneath that sturdy glasses or tracing the contours of your bare hands with visible veins were fascinating to me for awhile. Then, I decided to go out for a walk, just to that clear meadow that was peeking at us, teasing us to take a look at the vast space––something akin to what sirens would do.

The dark pitch lured me. I felt oddly displaced in the car, perhaps I thought I was ruining your personal, intimate moment with yourself, or maybe because I did not feel like I was a part of you. I was a removable part of your whole persona. An irreplaceable, removable piece. There is an ingrained fear in my mind that someday this part would be removed forever. Though, I must assumed, it would not be for a long time.

Throughout our impromptu photo shoot on the lake, I was still wondering how to keep myself not falling in love with you. How to separate between friendship and romantic pursuit, even though the latter one would be impossible to achieve.

Turned out, I couldn't.