so this has been sitting on my hard drive for a while.
and i haven't posted anything in a while. so i thought
i might emerge from my hiatus and post this. it's
a bit of an experiment of sorts, thus making it...
kinda short and choppy and weird. i'd love to hear
who you think the couple is, although if you can
see the hints then i think you'll know who i had
in mind. okay, ending this epic author's note.
-- dorothy
She's floating. Or so it seems. Her movements are so graceful and fluid she might as well be flying because it seems so natural. No trace of her clumsy teenage years here. You never knew she was a dancer, but then again, you don't really know much about her. She twists and turns and it's magic. She's beautiful and fleeting and you begin to wonder if this is a sick dream. Then she stops and smiles right at you. And you know it's not a dream.
She's laughing. It's melodic and sweet and it's better than any song you ever could write. You want to capture it like you used to with fireflies. Run around your backyard with your brothers, trying to catch their twinkling lights in glass jars. You were always hyper and crazy, never stopping but you could sit forever and watch those fireflies. Morning would always come too soon and soon her laughter quiets down and you feel the same disappointment you felt when you had to let them go. But just like those little bugs, her laughter will return. Good thing you're the cute funny one.
She tastes like vanilla. It's sweet and soft and completely addicting. She tastes nothing like other girls, with their thick faux fruit flavours. Their gloss lingering in your mouth long after they were gone. You used to hate vanilla. It was so plain, so average. Vanilla ice cream was always Nick's favourite. He was always a 'stick to the classics' kind of guy. Vanilla cake was always Kevin's birthday cake of choice. He was always liked things simple. But this vanilla, it's the best thing you've ever tasted.
She's pulling away. You have your hand on the soft skin of her forearm. It's hot compared to your cold fingers and she visibly flinches at the contrast in temperature. You were always so different from her. She looks back at you, her eyes soften at your expression. You try to mumble out some reason for her to stay but all you can focus on is how she feels. The warmth radiating from her skin burns your fingers, you can feel the tendons beneath her skin as she moves, and your sense of touch feels overwhelmed by her. She pulls out of your grasp, but your hand stays in place. Everything seems rough after her.
She smells like gummy bears. It's weird, you think that of all things that one could smell like, gummy bears would not be one of them. But she does. You take in a deep breath as you wrap you arms around her neck, her hair in your face. It makes sense though. That she would smell like childhood and innocence. Because that's what you think of gummy bears. Ignoring the fact that eating a gelatin snack in the shape of an animal seems a little barbaric. You stand there, with her in your arms for a while. Just breathing in each other. No perfume could compare to her.
She's heartbreaking. She's beautiful. She's quirky and mysterious and completely and totally enchanting. You think you may just be in love with her. She's nothing like you've ever experienced and a part of you hates that you didn't realize this sooner. But you were young and only saw things in black and white. She's a whole rainbow, a whole spectrum of color and feeling. She's reckless and graceful and life seems so much more with her. She lights up a room with her innocence and her optimism. She's everything you thought you lost when you grew up. If there was one thing you were arrogant to be sure of, it was that she would always be there. She would always adore you and worship the ground you walk on. So when she leaves, the world fades to grey.