They Were Almost Something

When he peered at her face in winter’s sunlight, while sitting on a bench in Riverside Park, listening to the sounds of her laugh – a free, uninhibited laugh –they were almost something.

When he spontaneously decided to drive two hours on that cold, March night to see her, even though they were both exhausted and all the nearby coffee shops were closed, they were almost something.

When he told her that he felt a particular, palpable energy coursing through the air between them, they were almost something.

When they had meaningful and complex and deep conversations, they were almost something.

When he smiled when she felt like crying; when he lifted her spirits, they were almost something.

When he called her at one in the morning, with vulnerability dangling from every word, his voice stripped down and earnest, they were almost something.

When he told her that she is like the sun, the giver of life and nourishment, they were almost something.

When he called her in a drunken stupor, expressing sentiments that he has yet to vocalize when sober, they were almost something.

When he shrugged that whole conversation away the following morning at breakfast, they were almost something.

When he asked her to leave with him for the weekend, but then had to relinquish plans last minute, they were almost something.

When he made promises that he couldn’t keep, that he was unable to keep, they were almost something.

When he was about to tell her that he loved her, but never did, they were almost something.

When they both realized that nothing could happen; when they figured out that he was going one way, and she was going another, they were almost something.

When he still resided in her heart anyway, they were almost something. TC mark

image – Cea.

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