imagrrrl

I thought about it enough to make myself able to see how this aspect of him could have been there all along. It was a wide and latent layer that had surfaced, but yet so far away. I could picture it, I could imagine the moment when this aspect emerged, in the same way a memory appears and starts to dance around in your mind for a bit.

When I sat down in my chair to read my book, I thought of him. I pictured him as if we were both sitting there. I glanced at him quickly to make sure that our eyes were both facing the same direction. I thought about the image of him sitting there as I flipped through my book. I kept my arms on the arms of my armchair as he was sitting there, with both hands on his Pepsi, which was in its cozy, between his thighs. This is how I pictured it.

Was there a problem with the way we sat there like that? Of course it was more than that. I mean suppose everything was perfect, there had to be something that wasn't quite right. There had to be something that wasn't going to allow us to continue. Ours was an admirable relationship, whatever kind it was. Like more books and less television, suppose, or hikes in the forest with picnics, or soul dumping conversations into the night. Its either there or its not. I don't see it being saved. You can't be too careful, and you can't be careful enough.