It’s almost four in the morning.
He stormed through the room and I pretended he did
not make any sound. He shook his head and stared at
me. I pretended it did not bother me.
“Let’s talk”, he said.
I kept my eyes on my laptop.
“I said let’s talk.”
“I was the one who told you to watch that fucking
“I know and I’m watching it. And thanks, it’s great.”
He sat beside me, exhausted from the long night. I
looked at him- his unruly hair, his big brown eyes,
his crumpled shirt. I could study him all my life.
He’s pretty much an open book. He couldn’t keep a lie
for 24 hrs. He plays the same games, reads the same
type of fiction, wears the same style of clothes, he
says the same things. The only thing that changes
about him is his hair, which he usually hates, which
I usually like, which at rare times he’d tell me “I
like my hair tonight.” Despite that and his constant
declaration of how boring he thinks he is, I think
that I could study him all my life.
The slight changes in his tone could mean a lot. He
couldn’t help it. He kept mumbling words like “sorry”
and I wanted to kiss him just to shut him up.
“I wasn’t the one who’s out so late at night-”
“But this is me.”
“And i’m not her.”
He knows what I mean
and he knows there’s nothing he could do.
“I love you anyway.”
I do love him anyway. He leaned towards me. And kissed me. He smelled so
badly of alcohol and secondhand smoke. I almost
sneezed and we both laughed. I told myself I love him