Three Words

What you've missed so far:
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6



The Morning After, pt. 7:



He almost stopped her - well, he tried. Certainly he tried.

He imagined his arm rising into the glimmering morning air - the right one, with that huge blocky "BELGIUM" emblazoned in queasy scarlet letters of unknown origin - and that he'd only just noticed - glowing on his forearm like a beacon in the ever-brightening dawn - liike a scream of passion in the dead of night.

He imagined his voice calling, "Wait!" and saw that word rushing down the stairs to grab her shoulder, spin her around, and gently take her by the hand - leading her softly back to where he stood, waiting.

But imagining is not doing. He often imagined himself living on a beach in Fiji, drinking strong drinks from large coconuts, but that had never actually happened, either.

No, imagining is not doing.

The truth of his situation came rushing in to drown him.

There are three words in the english language that, when strung together in the right order, and in the right situation, can be exceedingly difficult to utter - well-nigh impossible.

"I love you" was a phrase he'd had difficulty with in the past, but now he knew - it was a cakewalk compared to this one:


"Who are you?"


And that is why she never heard from him again. He didn't have a name, a number, or even an address.


She drifted down the stairs, and out of his life forever.




The End