Part one and Two

November 2002:

She looked at him and felt that every moment with him was a small moment of clarity. He cleared her mind with the jumbled clout of infatuation. Endorphins, like blood, told her heart to beat, and every time he made her smile, she felt born again. Christened in his glow. Momentary deaths when he inhaled and glorious ressurections when he glanced at her– take his eyes briefly off the road. Inside those tiny deaths, the pain of moments left unresolved and unspoken haunted her. She wanted his soul to explode out of him like midnight starbursts; she wanted to capture his essence in her own and meld the two together– to rival the sun. Instead, she was silent and smiled at him as the clouds rolled unknowing across the sky, threatening rain, and she found herself in the clout of that moment again. Loat in him.

—-

March, 2003

It seemed to her that the static and unnervingly mathematic curve of the weather always seemed to book-end stages of her life.

The way he car smelled on the newly warm spring mornings was an exact match to the slowly cooling November afternoons. On those thick afternoons, she’d escape into the day with Him and continue her day in a dream (fueled by narcotic infatuation). Yet, when she awoke to the startlingly warm mornings of March, those days seemed like stories she read once but could not remember when. She felt they were too far away to be real. She inhaled the smell of soft sunlight and recalled old November sunshowers that dripped lazily from the sky and fused themselves with the sweet organic smell of Him and overwhelmed her. His absence was now too clear and real because in March the sun is not lazy, but newborn, and falls from the sky like heavy sheets of cotton. So similar was that ephemeral moment in her car to those days months ago, that she had to wake herself.

The weather book-ended her life in such a way that is closed off the possibility to feel like that again. She swollowed hard and started the car, and realized that moving on always meant endless glances in the rear view mirror.