He could tell me that the sky was purple and the grass was pink and I would believe him despite all evidence to the contrary.

The rock he tossed skipped across the water with such fluidity you would have thought he controlled the elements he interacted with. He did everything with such grace that it annoyed me. I felt my guts gurgle every time he perfected a task. I couldn’t tell if I wanted to be him or be rid of him. But I stuck around in spite of myself because he was the most beautiful creature on this side of the lake.

The ripples of the water below were reminiscent of the way the wind rustled his hair; the mop of dark brown curls that couldn’t quite find their perfect place yet still looked effortlessly styled with an air of obliviousness that could have driven me to the edge of a cliff; and when I fell, images of him would flash in my mind as if my brain saved stills of memory for this very moment, so that, when facing my demise, I could be reminded that it is because of him my life had any sort of value at all. It was the most bittersweet disposition I could have hoped to find myself in.

Books lined the walls surrounding us and swallowed us up in a world that was our own, comprised of prose written by those who came before us. His brow furrowed as his eyes scanned the pages in front of him. He flipped the pages faster than my brain could register and I wondered how he could have retained any information at all. When he finished a particular book, he would hand it to me and it rested heavy in my hands, as if he had left traces of himself between each page and it was up to me to find every last piece of him. I was never as quick as he was, but I did my damnest to keep up. Before I knew it, by the time I scavenged what he left for me, a pile of books would be sitting beside me, nearly towering over all five feet of me.

“Do you think you can slow down a bit?” I asked.

He looked at me for a moment, his eyes glazed over with the remnants of information he was retaining before I distracted his focus. 

“Do you think you can hurry up a bit?” He replied.

My face grew hot with embarrassment and rage. I grabbed the book out of his hands and threw it at the pile that stood beside me, striking every last book down like bowling pins.

He stared at me with unbelieving eyes. His disposition did not change as he calmly walked over to the pile of books, slowly picked up the one I had thrown off the ground, and began flipping through the pages until he was back where he had left off. He continued reading as though nothing happened. I let out a groan of frustration which did not alter his demeanor one bit.

One night we lay on the grass and looked up at the stars above. The fireflies danced around us, providing the only glow besides moonlight that allowed us to see each other’s faces in the darkness. In my peripheral vision, I could see him turn his head to look at me. I continued watching the sky and enjoyed a few moments of his undivided attention. I hesitated to return his gaze because to be someone’s central focus without having to give any of myself away was something I was never used to, so I took full advantage of it. After a few moments of feeling his eyes pore into my face, I turned my head to look at him. He was prettier than I remembered him being. Though I saw him every day, it was always a pleasant surprise to lay my eyes on his face after only seconds of looking elsewhere. He captivated me repeatedly, and it was the pang in my chest that reminded me every time his eyes met mine that not only was this someone I could count on finding eternal beauty in, but he was also someone who, when the time came to let go, would leave the deepest crater in my chest that no advancement in medicine could ever repair.

We held each other’s gaze while silence passed between us. It was a silence that was filled with so much unspoken affection that it was as though we could read each other’s minds, and in fact, it was not so silent at all. After a while, he placed his hand on my left cheek and held it there. I felt the heat of my face transfer onto his palm. He moved his face closer to mine and I held my breath. I had never intended to be this close to anybody, yet here I lay, with the most unsuspecting person of all (or was it, really?).

When he was close enough that our eyelashes fluttered against one another, he paused and whispered, “I was created in your image, and you in mine.”

I blinked and tears formed in my eyes, no doubt glistening in the moonlight. Embarrassment washed over me and mingled with ecstasy. He leaned in and his lips graced mine. I welcomed him in and breathed in his affections. Goosebumps grazed every part of my skin seen and unseen. My heart and my pelvis became a silk road of sensation, connected to one another by the overwhelming feeling of being home.

It was then that I pulled away and looked into his eyes once more. He wore the look of a puppy dog who so desired the validation of his owners’ love. Something inside of me rustled, and my mind's eye brought me back to the lake, the bookshop, the morning before this perfect night when his cell phone lit up on his nightstand and I couldn’t help but take a look to see who was calling. The familiar curve of letters sent ice plunging into my chest, and I was reminded that I was not the only one, and I never would be.

I grabbed his hand and placed it back at his side. I sat up on the grass and the fireflies zig-zagged away from my sudden movement as I stood to my feet. I rattled off excuses and said I had to go, and he watched with his mouth agape as he sat up and watched me leave. I told myself not to look back. I had learned all that I needed to learn from him. Our time together was over--the last grains of sand had fallen--and until one of us got the courage to turn the hourglass back onto its head, I had to be rid of him forever. 

But forever is not as long as it seems.