Let Her Go - Passenger

You only need the light when it's burning low, it seems. While the flickering dimness is dying, and your eyes are frantically flicking across the room desperately trying to memorize everything. And your head hurts from the strain. Your eyes burn with the effort you didn't even realize you were putting in.

The darkness is growing.

Growing into the room around you, winning control of the space, edging out the fading light. And some ancient, primal part of you feels the fear that all men fear in the darkness. You know there's nothing there, you know there's nothing to fear. But that prehistoric section of your psyche will not relent.

The darkness is growing, and the light is almost gone.

And suddenly there is no more light. Your eyes strain against the blackness, your heart pounds, your body is about to tense.

And you feel her hand slide in to yours. It squeezes, and you feel her breath on your shoulder. You are not alone in the dark,

And as sleep takes you, you realize that like the light before it in the morning you will miss the fading dark.

Lucky Sweater

Please don't get too close, don't look inside of me. That's where the demons are.

"The coffee here is... terrible." She smiles, and the demons claw at my insides. I can feel them twisting and turning in my stomach. I smile back.

"Yeah... but the company is pretty good." Oh my god who said that? Did I say that?

She laughs a little laugh, and pulls her hair back from her face.

Oh my god I did say that. I think that's the smoothest thing I've ever said in my life. The demons writhe in my abdomen, and I want to throw up.

Instead, I turn red and look away.

"I uh... I like your sweater. Very festive." I indicate with a gesture the knit christmas tree pattern.

"Oh, really?" She pulls the sweater out in front of her to examine it, like it's the first time she's seen it. "My grandmother knit it for me as a gift. When I told her I had a date she insisted I open it early. She asked me to wear it, for good luck." She's turned a similar shade to me. She lets the sweater snap back and shrugs. "I know knit sweaters are a little goofy, but... I couldn't let my grandma down." She puts both her hands on her coffee cup, and I guess finds something incredibly interesting in the foam.

I bite my lip.

"Is it working?" I venture. What am I doing? Who is saying these words? My entrails do a somersault while I await her answer.

"Huh?" She looks up at me, puzzled.

"The lucky sweater... is it working?" My face is a rigid mask of confidence.

"Oh! Heh, well... You tell me." She says coyly. Oh man, coyness!  Calm down.  Shut up stomach. We can do this.

"Well, like I said... I like your sweater." I look into her eyes, smile, and feel the bottom drop out of the world as I get lost in their gorgeous green depths.

She giggles. It's the greatest sound of all time.

"If only the luck had extended to the quality of the coffee..." I say, absent mindedly.

"Tell you what," She says, putting her cup on the table. "I'll pick the coffee place next time." And she looks back into my eyes.

My demons melt into butterflies. Everything is suddenly a buttery dream. Everything in the world is amazing.

There's going to be a next time.

Saturday Nights

“Star Wars?”

“Watched it two weeks ago.”

“Right.  Toy Story 3?” John pulled the DVD off the shelf.  The box was well worn. 

“Ugh, no thank you.” Denise replied, rolling her eyes.  “If I want to cry because of toys I’ll go step on some Legos. “

“It’s Lego.”

“Yeah, Legos. The sharp things brothers leave out to torture older sisters who want a glass of water at night.”

“No, Lego.” He stated firmly as he returned the DVD to its place of honour on the shelf.  “It’s already plural.  The plural of Lego is Lego, not Legos.” He made air quotes for emphasis as he said ‘Legos’, affecting his most refined idiot accent.

“Oh, I know.  I just call them that to annoy you.” She beamed at him. 

He scowled back.

She continued to beam.

 He continued to scowl.

This went on for some time.

“Shrek.” He said, still scowling. 

“Too kiddie.”

“King Kong”

“Too old. You’ve Got Mail.”

“Too mushy. Star Trek?”

“Too lens-flarey.  Aladdin?”

“Too Disney.  Ghostbusters?”

“Too scary.” John’s scowl screwed up into a look of quizzical confusion when she said that. “How about...”

“Hold on, wait... Ghostbusters is too scary?” He looked back and forth between her and the DVD collection.  “This is the Bill Murray movie we’re talking about, right?”

“Yeah.  What?  Bill Murray has a very unsettling forehead.”  She replied earnestly as she shrugged.

“You are so weird.”

“That’s why you love me.”

“It’s true.”

There was a pause, where they both smiled at each other.  Suddenly a look of realization flashes onto both of their faces.

“Weird Science!” They shout in unison.

“I’ll get a blanket.”

“I’ll make popcorn.” John slipped the disk out of its case and into the player before heading to the kitchen to make popcorn.  When he returned, Denise had encased herself in the blanket, taking up most of the couch and looking like some giant blanket wurm.  He hit play on the remote.

“Abah-ah-ah.  No popcorn until I get a seat.  I know how this works.” He held the bowl out of arms reach. 

She scooted almost two whole inches over, and scowled.  He cocked his head.

Sighing dramatically, she made room on the couch and he flopped down.  She immediately dove into the popcorn. 

“This movie is terrible. ” He said.

“Itf awfil.”  She replied through a mouthful of kernels. The opening credits were playing, and she nuzzled her fully-cocooned body into his.

Contentment.  A smile settled on his face.  He took a minute to simply drink in the joy of sitting on the couch, watching a movie with the woman he loved. It was a perfect moment.  He reached for a handful of popcorn.

The bowl was empty. 

Denise was licking her fingers, cleaning the butter off of them.  She saw him staring. She stopped.

He looked from her face to the empty bowl, and back again.

She looked around shiftily.  Looked at the bowl, then at John.

“Would you believe... goblins?”

John sighed, and got up to make more popcorn.  Denise immediately took his couch space, grinning.  It’s true, the movie was awful.  They both hated it. Or so they assumed.  Six viewings in, and honestly neither of them had seen it.