A Stroll At Night
I'm just this guy, you know?
To expand on that, I am also the following...
- A former ficly member who is 38 years old and is schizoaffective (depressive type)
- Into creating languages and fantasy worlds from scratch
- A listener of audiobooks & good tunes
- Always too hard on myself
My hand was cold like a fish. Both were almost numb from the autumn wind blowing as we walked down the sidewalk that night.
It was the first time we had been alone in... well, ever, come to think of it. Every time we had been together before, we had had the buffer of mural friends. It was a comfortable buffer too. I didn't need my personality to stand on its own. I worried that it wouldn't stand on its own as well as i had hoped it would.
I quickly shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans, hoping to warm them in case later our hands would meet. It was a lofty aspiration, admittedly, but with you I was hoping beyond hope.
Step by step through the streets of the neighborhood we went, slab by slab of sidewalk in the clear night sky. The moon illuminated our way and tried to set the mood as only a lunar body could.
We talked, sure, but I think it was the silences I treasured the most because those silences spoke volumes to me without words.
Finally, I mustered the courage and reached for your hand.
No prequels yet. Why not write one?
No sequels yet. Why not write one?
Comments (1 so far!)
The silences, what was in the silences?!?!
The sidewalk moving beneath them bit by bit is the most vivid image here. The mention of the moon is a sidenote; a worthy date companion, but not nearly doing its job.
- #2765 Posted 3 years ago
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- Published 3 years ago.
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