That tension had strained us both while we traveled. Both knowing, but never saying what the other felt. Of course everyone else saw it. Maybe it was the least apparent to us. It had been, at least. Like anything tense and taught, once it snapped everything was laid bare.
Relieved by this revelation, I told you my thoughts, and recounted our meeting. How I had always pined for you, since our first meeting. My attempts at friendship, thrice spurned. How only after I had moved on that you became my friend. The first three tries had been a farce, a chance to get you into bed. I was a wolf and you a sheep. But you saw through them. Then you reached out to me, I suppose some part of me had forgotten or was interested in other pursuits.
Our friendship remained pure and plutonic, but there was a always something lurching in the depths of our minds, my mind at least. Too often, our paths would chance to cross. Our sentences would be finished by the other, and though you found me eccentric and garish at times, you admitted that there was a “sweet sincere truth” to me.
In those days, you would laugh when I told you about my fears. You chided me for what sounded like childish concern for conspiracy and contingency. But when it all came crumbling down, you saw me for what I was, no longer a skeptic with a sardonic distaste for the government, I had become the clear-headed eye in the storm that washed around as the world spun out of control.
I confessed my love for you that night. You said nothing and made no promises. I decided that this was good for now. You were all I had and I you. Besides, I never believed in ghosts and I didn’t think anyone could take you from me. I was content for the first time since the fall. I thought to myself if the world had to end to bring us together then I would be Nero. Damn the world! Let her burn!
When I woke, the next day you were already up. You had made a chore of settling into this place. I had my doubts but you seemed happy so I consented to staying in Homer. In my mind I saw our future, living in this small village. Our children growing up here, us growing old sitting on rocking chairs til the sun went down. It was a nice little life I imagined. You handed me a coffee.
