1. Bliss
She stared at a picture, a memory of long ago. She could still remember the day she met him . She was young, fresh. Returning from a dream. It was an usually humid day, smelling like some strange mixture of gasoline and exotic flowers. She was sitting at the flight gate, waiting impatiently for her boarding call. The clerks were frantically scrambling to get people on the plane and ready to go. She had no patience whatsoever, and was reading her book, only half concentraiting. Constantly sneaking hateful glances at the desk, wondering how intelligent you have to be to to work at a place like an airport. She finally got up with a sigh of disgust and started to walk to a nearby deli for some coffee. She was knocked backwards. She felt as if she'd hit a solid concrete wall. She looked up and realized that she hadn't been looking where she was going {a nasty habit that she was trying to break}. And the solid wall was, infact, a man. A boy really. He couldn't have been much older then she was. His tousled brown hair looked so soft that for a moment, she almost reached out to touch it. He was wearing headphones and the sound was so loud that she could feel the vibrations of "December" jolting through her. The boy looked down at her. She saw that he had misty green eyes, so deep that she found herself swimming in them, lost, oblivious to anything else around her. A time seemed to stop, and the two young {lovers} were absorbed in eachothers' gaze. He smiled at her, and she felt hot. As if she were frigid with cold amidst the fiery summer sun, and his smile had warmed her to the core. He leaned over and whispered "I'm sorry" into her ear. The spell was broken. She realized how close they really were. She could feel his hot breath on her face. Her cheeks turned crimson {another nasty habit}, and she moved from the boy with the enticing eyes. His name was simply, "Yuri." He moved the last of his things to her tiny bay apartment the next month. Together, they took long walks downtown, just to taste the fresh, warm bagettes at the little cafe on the corner. Marveled at the beautiful androgynous sequined people who didn't care that the hot sun was beating down on them. They ate ice cream in the park and smiled at the little children who laughed and picked at the scabs on their knees as their frenzied mothers chased them all over the playground. They went to the opera house, had picnics and fed eachother strawberries with peanut butter and licked the extra peanut butter off eachother's fingers {they both found it strange that they were the only ones who enjoyed that}. They went to Shakespeare In The Park and pretended to be the actors, getting lost in the world of fantasy that he created. Suddenly he was Romeo and she was Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers, destained to love in a world that knows no love. They went to Chinatown, bought beautiful rice paper kites and flew them in the meadow. I used to wish I could fly away like that, lovely and graceful. I used to think no one loved me because my feet were too big, I couldn't cook. Because my nails were ragged and chewed off. I used to think they could see right through me. I wanted to be a bird, with a crown of exotic flowers. To fly around the world and sing sweet songs to nearby lovers holding hands. A sea of colors, yellow and blue and purple, gold and white. Now I wish that I could just be here, right now, never leaving. Here is where I want to be, she thought, as she watched the kites drift up lazily in the arms of her beloved. They bought Kung Pao chicken and Chow mien, consumed it in large amounts. He picked her fragrant flowers from the garden box that their neighbors were trying to grow on their windowsill. He wrote her song on his guitar. Songs about a mermaid, with jewel encrusted tail-fins, pale skin, big breasts, and hair that flickered auburn in the sunlight. Songs about a beautiful snow-white unicorn, with his slender legs and sliver mane. He wrote songs about her, telling her how she enspired him. And in return, she wrote poems about him. About his soft angelic features, messy hair and big hands. About his large full mouth, and above all, his deep green eyes; that were always warm and loving when you glanced at him, letting you see deep into his soul, his pain, his pleasure. "Nightengale," he would whisper in a soft hoarse voice into her ear, as their bodies melted together like scalding candle wax, making the sheet too hot and sticky to touch. When he kissed her, it was like he was capturing bits of her heart each time. It was tangy and soft, stinging with passion; Like the frost that nipped your cheeks in the winter, she thought. Nightengale, that was what he called her. Because of her slightly pointed nose, high cheek bones, long raven hair. Because of her large deepset eyes that were the brightest, sparkling silver. But most of all, becuase of her beautiful voice. "You sing like an angel," he said to her once. "My angel, my little nightengale."
She stared at a picture, a memory of long ago. She could still remember the day she met him . She was young, fresh. Returning from a dream. It was an usually humid day, smelling like some strange mixture of gasoline and exotic flowers. She was sitting at the flight gate, waiting impatiently for her boarding call. The clerks were frantically scrambling to get people on the plane and ready to go. She had no patience whatsoever, and was reading her book, only half concentraiting. Constantly sneaking hateful glances at the desk, wondering how intelligent you have to be to to work at a place like an airport. She finally got up with a sigh of disgust and started to walk to a nearby deli for some coffee. She was knocked backwards. She felt as if she'd hit a solid concrete wall. She looked up and realized that she hadn't been looking where she was going {a nasty habit that she was trying to break}. And the solid wall was, infact, a man. A boy really. He couldn't have been much older then she was. His tousled brown hair looked so soft that for a moment, she almost reached out to touch it. He was wearing headphones and the sound was so loud that she could feel the vibrations of "December" jolting through her. The boy looked down at her. She saw that he had misty green eyes, so deep that she found herself swimming in them, lost, oblivious to anything else around her. A time seemed to stop, and the two young {lovers} were absorbed in eachothers' gaze. He smiled at her, and she felt hot. As if she were frigid with cold amidst the fiery summer sun, and his smile had warmed her to the core. He leaned over and whispered "I'm sorry" into her ear. The spell was broken. She realized how close they really were. She could feel his hot breath on her face. Her cheeks turned crimson {another nasty habit}, and she moved from the boy with the enticing eyes. His name was simply, "Yuri." He moved the last of his things to her tiny bay apartment the next month. Together, they took long walks downtown, just to taste the fresh, warm bagettes at the little cafe on the corner. Marveled at the beautiful androgynous sequined people who didn't care that the hot sun was beating down on them. They ate ice cream in the park and smiled at the little children who laughed and picked at the scabs on their knees as their frenzied mothers chased them all over the playground. They went to the opera house, had picnics and fed eachother strawberries with peanut butter and licked the extra peanut butter off eachother's fingers {they both found it strange that they were the only ones who enjoyed that}. They went to Shakespeare In The Park and pretended to be the actors, getting lost in the world of fantasy that he created. Suddenly he was Romeo and she was Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers, destained to love in a world that knows no love. They went to Chinatown, bought beautiful rice paper kites and flew them in the meadow. I used to wish I could fly away like that, lovely and graceful. I used to think no one loved me because my feet were too big, I couldn't cook. Because my nails were ragged and chewed off. I used to think they could see right through me. I wanted to be a bird, with a crown of exotic flowers. To fly around the world and sing sweet songs to nearby lovers holding hands. A sea of colors, yellow and blue and purple, gold and white. Now I wish that I could just be here, right now, never leaving. Here is where I want to be, she thought, as she watched the kites drift up lazily in the arms of her beloved. They bought Kung Pao chicken and Chow mien, consumed it in large amounts. He picked her fragrant flowers from the garden box that their neighbors were trying to grow on their windowsill. He wrote her song on his guitar. Songs about a mermaid, with jewel encrusted tail-fins, pale skin, big breasts, and hair that flickered auburn in the sunlight. Songs about a beautiful snow-white unicorn, with his slender legs and sliver mane. He wrote songs about her, telling her how she enspired him. And in return, she wrote poems about him. About his soft angelic features, messy hair and big hands. About his large full mouth, and above all, his deep green eyes; that were always warm and loving when you glanced at him, letting you see deep into his soul, his pain, his pleasure. "Nightengale," he would whisper in a soft hoarse voice into her ear, as their bodies melted together like scalding candle wax, making the sheet too hot and sticky to touch. When he kissed her, it was like he was capturing bits of her heart each time. It was tangy and soft, stinging with passion; Like the frost that nipped your cheeks in the winter, she thought. Nightengale, that was what he called her. Because of her slightly pointed nose, high cheek bones, long raven hair. Because of her large deepset eyes that were the brightest, sparkling silver. But most of all, becuase of her beautiful voice. "You sing like an angel," he said to her once. "My angel, my little nightengale."