Endless

It is 6pm-

2pm-

4am.

4am and it is the millionth day of the millionth year and somehow, I am not a second older.

Younger.

I don’t know what came before.

Only that this has always been.

The sun is rising-

Setting-

High in the sky.

The sun is setting on the beach, and I am wondering what it would be like to be that boy holding that girls’ hand.

He takes it.

He lets it go.

He takes it.

He pulls her to him.

In slow motion they bring their lips together.

I can see the seagulls, hovering in the air behind them.

The drops of water running slowly down their skin.

I can see the way her hair sticks to his chin for a just a second as she pulls away.

I watch this 100 times before I can’t anymore.

Before it makes me want to rip my own heart out.

At once, or maybe in fragments, it is hard to tell, I existed.

I found myself in a dark space.

I don’t know where.

I don’t know when.

I don’t know how.

I was there.

And then I wasn’t.

And when I try to go back, there it is.

A blank space.

A darkness where nothing except me exists.

It is a Monday-

A Saturday-

A Fribigdadsy (How they say Friday in the year 5067).

It is a Tuesday and the year is 2026 and he is standing on the corner reading Parable of the Sower by Octavia Butler.

The light turns green and he is still reading. He doesn’t move, captivated by whatever he is looking at on the page.

Maybe it’s the way he tucks his hair behind his ear.

Or the way he looks up startled when the cars honk, and he realizes it is his turn to cross.

Maybe it’s the way his cheeks flush and his eyes dart around him to see who else noticed.

Maybe it’s the way his eyes stop on mine.

The way they linger.

I rewind.

I watch his cheeks flush-

My eyes follow where his eyes dart to a million times-

I memorize the way his fingers graze his ear when he tucks his hair, the way he leads with his right foot-

I memorize it all before I let him go.

It is three days later, and I am sitting in a coffee shop staring out the window thinking of him.

I don’t know why.

He is one of billions of people I have seen.

And yet.

And-

Yet.

“Hey.”

I freeze.

I look up.

Into those eyes.

His eyes.

No.

It is the day after-

A year after-

A billion years later.

I am standing in a desert.

To my right is a chimney.

Ruins of what used to be a home.

I stare up at the sun blaring down on the wasteland and wonder how he saw me.

No one ever sees me.

Not really.

I am a blur.

A fading image in their periphery.

I don’t know why.

It’s just always been that way.

I am sitting in the coffee shop looking outside.

Waiting to catch a glimpse.

To see him see me.

I want to find the exact moment.

How he startled me.

“Hey.”

His voice comes from behind me, unexpected and I jump and scream.

Everyone looks.

I freeze.

I watch as his eyebrows slowly raise to his forehead.

The way his mouth slowly turns from a straight line into a smirk.

And the way his eyes travel from the bottom of my feet to the top of my head.

I breathe.

“Hey,”

I croak, my voice a tool I haven’t used in I don’t even remember how long.

“I…would you like a cup of coffee?” he asks.

I nod.

I sit.

I watch him go to the counter.

I watch him turn away from me to go to the counter.

I watch the way his eyes meet mine before he turns away to go to the counter.

I watch the way his eyes linger on my lips before he turns away to go to the counter.

He brings me back a coffee with two creamers and one sugar.

How did he know?

“I guessed,” he says smiling.

I didn’t realize I had asked the question out loud.

Rewind.

I watch the way his eyes linger on my lips before he turns away to go to the counter.

I watch him ordering our coffees. I watch him grab two creamers and one sugar for mine.

I watch him set them down.

In slow motion he says, “I guessed,” and I realize that I never said anything out loud.

Could he have read my face so well?

It is possible that I am transparent since I’ve never been noticed before. Since I haven’t learned how to control my face.

But there’s something there.

In his eyes.

Like he knows.

I breathe.

We drink our coffees.

I watch him watch me.

I try not to move.

I try not to rewind.

Fast forward.

It has been so long since I just-

I just-

It has been so long since I just sat.

And breathed.

“So…” he says, breaking the silence and smiling.

It is so sweet, so open, so beautiful that I almost cry.

I hadn’t really realized how alone I was until this moment.

It is hard to yearn for something that you’ve never had.

“So,” I repeat.

He leans his head toward me.

His knees brush mine and I gasp.

“If you tell me what you can do, I’ll show you what I can do,” he whispers.

I freeze.

I observe the narrowing of his eyes.

I concentrate on his skin- flawless, smooth, ageless.

Could it be?

I breathe.

Slowly, I take his hand and-

We are standing in a sunflower field under a night sky.

I look up and gaze at the thousands of stars I have looked at a thousand times and have never gotten tired of.

This is one of my favorite moments.

This sunflower field.

This night sky.

This year.

Month.

Day.

Hour.

Minute.

Second.

I have been here more times than I can count but always alone.

His hand gently touches my face.

And I look at him.

He takes my face in his hands and suddenly we are above the earth.

We are floating in the universe-

In space-

Surrounded by planets and moons-

And I look at him-

And I look at him-

And I look at him-

And ask, “Why Parable of the Sower?”

And he laughs and the sound echoes and it is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard.

And he says, “Why the sunflower field?”

And I nod.

And I watch as he leans in and-

I breathe-

As his lips meet mine.