Title: Her
Rating: G, maybe PG
Disclaimer: Doesn't belong to me. :)
A/N: Very short piece I wrote when I was feeling introspective.

When she smiled at me shyly and left my apartment, closing the door silently behind her, I had no answers, only more questions. Dammit but she confuses the hell out of me sometimes! I wish she'd just make up her mind.

I sat down heavily in my old overstuffed chair, running a hand through my hair. She was unlike anyone I'd ever known. Her bright red hair flashes in the sunlight, just as colorful as her funny words and infectious laughter. She makes me laugh at stupid things, makes the most adorable noises when she's happy, and it more of a free spirit than anyone I've ever met.

I guess that might be why I thought it was possible.

My questions were vitally important, but she didn't seem to understand that. She just laughed and stroked my cheek and said, "Of course I love you sweetie. How could I not?" You say it, but that doesn't mean it's true. Even if you believe it. But even that is debatable.

I was just torturing myself, sitting there and thinking of her. I stood up and went into the kitchen to cook myself something. Her words kept running through my head. "Maybe it's not what I thought I wanted, sweetie… but it is now."

But then she goes off about Harry who she CLAIMS she doesn't still love but then why is she talking about him?

I get out some cereal, too tired to bother with anything else. I smile as I remember the way she takes full-fat evaporated milk and drowns her other wise healthy granola in it, just laughing, "Oh well, I'll dance it off later!"

I took my Cheerios into the other room. I ate a few bites before sighing, setting it down, and going to the mirror to look at myself.

I had a haircut recently; my bushy brown hair just reaches my shoulders. I reach for a stray tube of red lipstick and reapply it slowly.

I sigh, and press my lips to a paper, blotting the lipstick, wishing it was her lips I was kissing, and not some old loose-leaf paper lying on my desk.