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By J. Knipp Submitted by J. Knipp Date: 2003 Mar 06 Comment on this Work [[2003.03.06.21.53.16428]] |
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"They say love is just chemicals... Do you believe that?" The raindrops beaded on her nose, glistening. "No... Its deeper than that." "What are we then?" "There's different degrees of love, you are my friend." "You can't have love without friendship, but you can have friendship without love" The rain came down in staggered sheets, as if a palsied hand held the heaven's saltshaker. Walking hand in hand with the rain was the cold. Together they made a bitter couple, nagging at flesh and breath. "So which are we?" she said, the rain gone from her nose. "I still want to be your friend, I love you but in that other degree." They walked inside. He looked into his cocoa brooding. When he looked up into her face, she shied away. Some awkwardness still lingered like the vapors of the cocoa between them. She talked. He thought. Her conversation slipped into the trivialities that buffer what life is about. And so it goes, people live in constant commute from one solid moment to the next. Everything else is the water floating around the islands. Old faces walked into the Dunkin Donuts. Mostly ignoring the man and woman sitting across from each other. Friendly isn't familiar. He knew that the people would talk. Sometimes they needed those islands however affected and rootless they were. For some, those meek islands were all they had to stay above the doldrums. People would talk if for nothing more than a lack of exhaling. Her talking stopped. He looked up. He felt obliged to say something. "I don't think we can be in room alone anymore. I guess I am just weak. But still you don't make it any easier," He shifted blame and shifted in his seat. "Its not my fault." She said. "I guess I am just oblivious." "I knew something was going to happen when we went by ourselves. You still instigated it." A childish retort he knew. "Its not all my fault. Only half mine" He grew silent again. His eyes traced over the foam floating on the surface of his cocoa, but his mind was elsewhere. There is always that struggle between soul and flesh. They sit in a slim, strained harmony. Body and mind wrangle. Which takes precedence? |