I so wanted this up on the eleventh.
I'm sorry its belated, I just wanted to write this, and I wanted it to be right, and I wasn't in any sort of mood to write anything especially great that day.
Sorry again.
And now, my two cents.
Never Forget
She was there, in his arms like she belonged there.
She did, she decided.
She liked it there too much to belong anywhere else.
He was there, too, obviously, holding her like he'd always wanted to.
He could now, and the thought that he could hold her whenever he wanted to was like hot chicken soup on a frigid December day.
He buried his nose in her hair, reveling in the smell of her shampoo.
They squeezed into the patio chair that sat on the balcony of the loft, sitting on the cushioned wicker chair and spread out onto the matching ottoman. It was only September, but the cold chill that belonged only to autumn had already set in and night took over, so they had bundled up.
She didn't have a jacket so she snaked her arms around his waist her head resting on his chest, letting his jacket keep her arms and torso warm.
He didn't mind sharing.
They both lay there, in a way that is impossibly close and comfortable and very much intimate. The city before them is still moving, still alive and running and glowing with lights and people and noise. If they squinted their eyes they could make out a star or two. But the main sight was the two blue beams of light.
They shot up from some place indefinable amongst the city itself, two rays shooting up to die only in the clouds, and then even continuing on a bit.
They both knew it was not two but eighty eight beams of light, working together to form a tribute in light, a memorial of structures that once sat in their place. They could also both pin-point exactly where the lights were emanating from.
Ground Zero.
"Where were you?" she asked him in a voice not more than a hushed whisper. She didn't need to elaborate, he knew just what she meant. He pressed his lips against her temple, briefly, before answering in an equally soft tone.
"I was getting coffee when I heard it. The Pinnacle, that little café across from Columbia U. I was attending a writing lecture there." His fingers had found her hair, combing in back, gently, in a soothing way that made closing her eyes temping. "You?"
"I was working a crime scene 16 blocks away. God." She hated thinking about it. "I was 16 blocks away." Again he pressed his lips to her head, his fingers still moving in her auburn hair, and she stopped fighting the urge to close her eyes, if only briefly.
"Did you lose anyone?" he asks, warily, afraid of saying the wrong thing.
She just nodded, unwilling to expand. He accepted this. "You?" she mumbled into his chest, where she had taken to nuzzling, softly, trying to return the comfort he was providing for her.
"Personally?" he asked, rhetorically. "No. But I lost many. We all did. People we passed on the streets every day, the man in front of me at the book store, the woman who held open the subway door for me one time. I never noticed people with building badges and passes and such until after the fact, and the street traffic was a little lighter on the way home, Starbucks wasn't as packed, the city was sectioned off."
A long moment of silence ensued his impromptu speech, and when it became clear he was done, she spoke again.
"I think that's the best answer I've gotten yet."
"I'll never forget it, not as long as I live."
"Never forget," she said, almost agreeing. Again she let the soft autumn breeze, the small rise and fall of his chest underneath her, and the sight of those two blue, never-ending beams lull her into a light doze, her eyes falling shut. "Never forget."
