I just…I just really don’t know how to describe it. You know when…it’s fall, so it’s not to warm, maybe a bit brisk…and you’re wearing comfy clothes and have nothing to do, and where to go…maybe a lazy Sunday, and you’re in your pajamas still…Anyways, the shades are open, and you notice a spot of sunlight…on the couch, or maybe on the floor, if you’re not picky, and it’s been there for a while, so it’s really warm…and the house is slightly brisk—it hasn’t gotten quite cold enough to turn on the heat yet—and you lie down in that spot of sunlight; maybe you curl up so that all of you—or as much of you as possible—is in the spot. And then you’re pleasantly warmed by the sun, perfectly relaxed and comfortable. That’s what being with her was like.


I loved that feeling, and I loved her. Or, at least I thought I did. But then the sun went away, and the spot cooled off, and I was just lying on the floor in a cold house…and I realized that I had things to do, places to go, after all. My lazy Sunday was ruined, and so was my time with her.