By sophomoric genius
It was one of those surreal, melodramatic moments wherein everything suddenly shifts into slow motion; the crowd becoming nothing but a blur, and only one face stands out above all the others.
Yours.
With your long, flaxen hair, sparkling blue eyes and that small, enigmatic smile on your perfect little lips, you looked like an angel—no, a goddess sent from the glorious land of Asgard to grace and captivate us, mere mortals, with your stunning beauty.
That sounded so cheesy, ice-cold shivers were instantly sent running down my spine somewhere in the middle of the thought.
But I couldn't help it. I couldn't stop staring at you.
Memories of olden times when those lustrous locks were greasy and disheveled, the bright eyes dull and lifeless, and your smile practically nonexistent, flooded my minuscule of a brain.
I couldn't help but wonder, was it me?
You look happy now.
You weren't before.
I remember you used to cry a lot. You hated me. You said I took you for granted. That I didn't love you as much as I should.
And you were right. I did take you for granted. I didn't love you as much as I should.
But you loved me still.
So much so that it drained every last drop of life out of you. You were withering right in front of my eyes but I simply frowned and turned away.
I was young then, you see. I valued my freedom. I celebrated it. And you, you were weighing me down.
You walked away one night, tired and spent. And that was it. I lost you. I watched you go. I remember feeling nothing. No sadness, no remorse, but surprisingly, no satisfaction either. Just nothing. Blank. Flat. Expressionless.
Out of the crowd, your goddess eyes finally met mine. The hazy clouds were instantly lifted, realization dawning upon me then and there.
Without breaking eye contact, you glided towards me, an ethereal siren in the middle of this crammed, noisy marketplace. Stopping barely a few inches away, you raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and parted your lips.
"Honey?" you whispered in my ear.
I closed my eyes, desperately wondering how I ought to manage this sort of situation. With trembling voice I replied, "Yes?"
"Where are the kids?"
My hands instantly went out to your shoulders, rubbing them in a hopefully relaxing way. "I swear, they were right here a second ago, dear. They couldn't be that far. Don't worry hon, I'm on it. Everything's gonna be just fine."
"You lost our kids. IN PRONTERA!"
Your voice grew a pitch higher with each word. I was definitely a dead man.
"It's okay, sweetheart," I tried to reassure you, slowly backing away. "I'll find them, don't worry. Just stay there, okay? I promise, I'll find them, honey. Just stay right there."
And with shaking knees I went to look for those two rascals. I glanced back at your seething form and smiled.
Although you're probably regretting it at the moment, I'm really glad you took me back. I've been a jerk, and sometimes I still am. Our marriage is far from perfect. But I love you. And this—life with you—is exactly the way it should be.
Now if only I could keep it at that…
Where the hell are those damn kids?