This Girl's In Love

But, still, I can’t believe he’s here. Stooped as he ducks through the door, beside those three concrete walls swathed with thick stripes of green. Modern art for the mediocre. Through nerve, or habit, or sheer bloody-minded stubbornness, he’s here and I’m here and I’m not sure that’s what I want. Not now. I feel my heart flutter, and race, and pick up its legs and run, jack-hammering against my ribcage as it pirouettes in frantic sweaty escape.

“Let’s go, come on, it’s time to leave – do it for me, if for nothing else. Fuck. No. No, it’s not like that at all. You’re misunderstanding and that’s not what I meant.”

I don’t think he understands what’s going on.

Posted in Shutterbug on Saturday May 3, 2008.