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novel #13

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Edited by Neil Anderson, Tuesday, 31 Jan 2012, 22:08

She and I had spent our entire university life not sleeping together. Worse, we were very close-strange friends.

Perhaps in another language there's a word, or words, for what we felt about one-another. Or, maybe it was just what was in my head, for she and I only ever looked into each others' eyes. We never talked.

We, deliberately, on my part, and I suspect her's, didn't touch.

The worst thing about it was that we both had, relationships, relationships with people who, I suppose that we loved, and yet when our eyes met..,

I remember our last night. There was no reason for it to be our last night, but we both knew that it was.

People had graduated, people would, soon, be getting pissed. She was far across the bar with a rum and coke, I was watching my mates chop up lines of speed on a table with a broken pint glass. I saw her turn and smile at her latest.

Late: we sat next to each other, couple of stick-insects; four nobbly legs at all the wrong angles between us, heads down, drinks not in hands. I wanted to say what she had meant to me, but I didn't know how to.

I wanted to hear a song that we could dance to. I was lucky.

We close-danced to the Three Degrees, when will I see you again?  We touched, we held each other too close. And then we went out and sat, apart/together in the quad, I watched the sun come up in her eyes.

Then she rose, stooped and kissed me, then left me forever.

Permalink 5 comments (latest comment by Oliver Thomas, Saturday, 11 Feb 2012, 11:18)
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