Author's Note: This snapshot is set after "I Could Fall In Love (in Corpus Christi)" and before "It Gets Worse". I wrote this in half an hour while listening to Paul Simon's "Heart and Bones", the song he wrote about his marriage to Carrie Fisher. It wasn't planned and I would like to apologise in advance for how experimental and horrible it turned out to be.
Reviews are (almost) better than Simon and Garfunkel's music. So please leave one if you can. (Or if you just want to yell at me for this, that's fine too.)
You say things to burn the heart.
Faiz Ahmed Faiz
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A memory is made out of moments and feelings.
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She remembers the moments:
the pink glow on the horizon as the sun started to rise, the grey shadows that danced across their dashboard, the soft and comforting noise of the engine as they drove, the way his face looked half-bathed in disappearing moonlight…
He remembers the feelings:
the softness of her head as it rested on his shoulder, the warmth of her breath as she breathed against his shirt, the feeling of her hand in his, the way his heart clenched when she looked at him whenever he moved…
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They are an hour out of Corpus Christi and she turns her head up to him, her face lit with the warm, gentle glow of the new day sun.
"How about we take you home?" she asks.
And he looks at her, confusion written in his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"If we keep driving," she says, "we'll be in Mexico."
And he smiles his biggest smile and kisses her, feeling like his heart might burst from feeling too much.
.
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She remembers the feelings:
the thrill that coursed through her body the first time he looked at her, the softness and roughness of his lips as they trailed up her skin, the warmth of his arms as they held her tight, the hurt that gripped her heart every time he turned away…
He remembers the moments:
the eyeliner that was smudged underneath her eyelids, how beautiful she looked laughing in his brown leather jacket, the way she rolled her eyes whenever he got sappy, the sad vulnerable look on her face whenever he told her he cared…
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They are two hours out of Corpus Christi and he turns his head down to her, his face strangely soft and scared in the yellow ray of the morning sun.
"There are beaches down in Mexico," he says.
And she looks at him, a smile tugging at her lips.
"Cassian, what are you thinking of?"
"Jyn," he whispers. "Marry me."
And she looks at him for far too long before she kisses him, and she feels like her heart might burst from feeling too close.
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"What about Bodhi? And Kay? And Baze and Chirrut?"
"We'll call and tell them. They can fly down."
"What about my dress? Our rings?"
"You do realise that we sell things in Mexico, don't you?"
"Our vows then?"
"Surprise me."
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The moments are the things that you play over and over in your head
(like a broken record).
And the feelings are the things that you miss over and over again
(even when the person you shared those feelings with is no longer there).
A memory is just that, they tell themselves.
A collection of things. No more. No less.
And tell me why
Why won't you love me
For who I am
Where I am
He said:
'Cause that's not the way the world is, baby
This is how I love you, baby
This is how I love you, baby
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Author's Note: This is very weird, I know. I blame Paul Simon. Go listen to the song and you will understand.
Please still let me know what you thought. I'd even take one-word reviews at this point.