Everything

Short fiction

He couldn’t know what you knew then.

That the two of you were finite.

Doomed from the start.

He was young. Untested. Pure. Foolish.

And so handsome.

It was painfully endearing. The way he stumbled over himself to get closer to you. It gripped your heart with both hands to see him try. To be noticed. To stand out. But he didn’t need to try.

He consumed you from the moment he entered your life.

The mere possibility of running into him every day was enough to lift your heels off the ground, as you danced around your bedroom, imagining his eyes on your bare skin. Feeling his hungry gaze on your perfected self. The one you dressed and polished in front of the mirror for him.

It wasn’t so hard then. To reach perfection.

You were young, too. Smooth, firm, flexible.

And ten years seemed like nothing between you.

Twenty-two and thirty-two was nothing.  

He was an old soul and a romantic. You were a free spirit, brimming with heat and energy. You glowed then. From the inside out. And he was entranced by …