Static Memories

October 15, 2012

They couldn’t be more different.
She was short. He was tall. Her hair cascaded in long curls. His was short and chopped. She liked to read. He liked the excitement of television. She liked guitar and piano. He liked the hum of a rapper’s rhyme. She sipped coffee. He gulped Gatorade. She wore beanies. He wore baseball caps. She was the weird one. He was the cool guy.

They both had a consistent stutter. They always got tripped up on what to say face to face. But they both knew words in and out and they knew how to put them together. They both worked hard and they both understood the meaning of a dream. And they both knew what it was like to be set back.

He wasn’t protective. And she didn’t like being protected. He had a big heart though he didn’t often show it. And she loved the lot, though it was rare if you saw it. He was often lonely and she was always good company. He liked the feeling of holding someone in his arms. And she liked being held. He loved it when she smiled. She loved it when he smiled. 

He was fearful. She was risky. And in the end, broken words left them far away. There was once a casual glance or a nonchalant message, but nothing was the same.

Nothing gained now, nothing lost. Just static memories waiting to be forgotten.

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