Last Night, 930

for Edwin

You are your own fortress. Barking dogs, barbed wires and booby traps surround your 2000 ft. high castle, so that no man can climb up and hurt you again. Love, to you, has become a dirty word.

That's why you refuse to believe he's not just passing through.

So you're making the most out of tonight: laughter silvers the air over pumpkin soup and steak, you memorize his face (his smooth caramel skin, the tan freckles on his nose, two on each side, almond-shaped eyes, firm, square jaw, light brown hair, full and thick, sweeping over his forehead), you forget your manners and feed him meat off your fork.

He tells you, I haven't felt this way in a long time.

Why now, you ask. Somewhere inside you, a stone wall collapses. As if on cue, Billie starts playing, it's just the thought of you, the very thought of you my love... You slap yourself awake. This isn't real, you tell yourself, don't start this again. You've had enough: all you want is peace, but here he is, wanting to ram down your gates.

(to be continued)