#70
This album always reminds me of us. Driving.
Her: maybe you should stop listening to it then.
I didn’t want to.
She was on the phone, we were talking long distance. It had been over an hour. I was laying on my bed with my legs up the wall. My favorite position for talking on the phone.
Her: what song specifically?
Me: no song. Just the album. It’s all there. Geez, I can’t get it out of my head.
She paused. A little to long and I thought we had lost the connection. But then I heard her flush the toilet.
Her: sorry, I had to pee.
I wanted to be there with her, sitting on her bed, with my hand on her thigh. Or on her arm. I wanted to smell her room, see what she was wearing. I wanted to notice the posters on the wall, the color of the carpet.
Me: What are you doing on Saturday night?
I didn’t have any plan in mind but I just wanted to be around her, close by.
Her: nothing really.
Me: Meet me at the movies.
Her: I’ll see.
Her I’ll see was always code for yes. My heart raced. The Smiths were on the stereo. My mind left me for a moment. I floated.
Her: are you there?
Me: yeah.
Her: I’m tired.
Me: me too.