Hello dear reader(s)!

It has been a fortnight or so since last I posted.  I fear that my dear reader(s) may be vexed by lack of consistency and so I have therefore chosen to fall upon the sword of my shame rather than argue the valid points as to why my posting has not been up to the high standards I know that my dear reader(s) deserve.  I humbly apologize and beg the forgiveness of my dear reader(s), and hope they do not cast me into blog-type-thinging exile.

Alright, so now that I got that bullshit out of the way, let me ask y’all a question…

Do you motherfuckers dear reader(s) believe in fate?

I do.

Kind of.

Lemme explain.  No there is too much.  Lemme sum up.*

I think fate takes you only so far.  I believe you create your own fate.  I believe you help create the opportunities and bizarre alignments that one would call fate.  Sometimes you do it through thought.  Sometimes through intent.  Sometimes through action.  Sometimes by stepping back and doing nothing at all.  Sometimes you just need to put something out of your mind so you can recognize it when it lands right at your foot door.  Of course, usually the only thing that lands at your front door is a shitty local newspaper’s promotional copy, but that is neither here nor there.

So you’re going along, minding your own business, when suddenly you notice some sort of fated event.  Say, I don’t know… someone you know of with something major you have in common likes a comment you made on a local news story… and the next thing you know you’re connecting on a very deep level but all of these things had to align at the right time and in the right order to allow that connection.  That’s just an example.  I do not know about anything like that, honest.  But let’s just say that happens…then what?

Well, you don’t fucking make fate do all the work.  Fate has brought you to a point.  The rest is up to you.   You must now continue the effort to make the fates continue to align.

Opportunities do occasionally come up.  Are you going to be brave enough to seize them?  As an example, fate has given you the opportunity to read this post today.  Are you brave enough to read all the way through, like, share, and comment?  You owe it to fate!

Fate is awesome.  I am a big believer in fate.  I have seen too many strange things happen to produce too many things that seemed to be impossible or were simply exactly what should be at the time they came to pass in order to discount it.  So it is always going to be three easy payments of $49.99, no matter who is advertising a similar product for less, sorry.  No discounts.

But I also believe in myself, in energy, in magic, and in effort.  Once you recognize the existence of fate, you will recognize the opportunities it presents.  But you still have to do something with those opportunities if they lead to what you desire.  In doing so, you create more ways for fate to align for you.  No matter how badly your local area maintains their roads, if you put in the work, your fate will stay in alignment without dealing with mechanics and their ridiculous shop fees and attempts to upsell you on parts and services you don’t need.

When you go about your day today, pay attention.  Try to see if fate is sending you a message.  Look for the opportunities that fate provides.  Then don’t just sit there watching fate flashing in your face like a sick fucker who gets off on showing their junk to unsuspecting people in public.  Do something about it!  Take fate and run with it.  Unless Fate is the name of a stripper or something, in which case let Fate come to you.  Kidnapping strippers is not good, Bob.

Fate is calling to you.  So let her out of your trunk, Bob.

*Stolen shamelessly from the Princess Bride.  













She was the catalyst.  Everything was suddenly erupting into an all-consuming fireball that would determine everything that ever mattered to him.  She taught him everything he wanted in a love, and everything he wanted in his life.  She taught him to find happiness in her smile, and to find joy in her laughter.  She made him desire nothing more than her happiness.  She didn’t do it on purpose, but her smile was so beautiful, her laughter so contagious, and her love so amazing that it became all he ever wanted.

And then she was gone.  And he was shattered.

He did his best to gather the broken pieces of himself and live without her.  As he got further in time from her, he began to see her everywhere he looked.  Not her, only fragments.  He wanted her, so he tried to gather those fragments.  Sometimes they had her eyes.  Or her hair.  Occasionally they had her strength.  Rarely, they had her light.  Even more rarely, they had her darkness.  It was his need for her darkness that got him into trouble.

Sarah had her attitude and strength.  Sarah was someone who wasn’t afraid to take what she wanted, just like her.  But unlike her, Sarah was fickle.  Sarah wasn’t just strong, Sarah was a bit of a narcissist.  When she took what she wanted, what she wanted was for both of them to be happy.  But when Sarah took what she wanted, she only wanted what was good for Sarah.  Eventually Sarah did take what she wanted, and it wasn’t him.

Lindsey had her darkness.  Lindsey was very dark indeed.  His attraction to her was instant, and the passion between them was off the charts.  He was addicted to her and dove in head first.  But unlike her, Lindsey’s darkness didn’t provide a light.  The passion became drama, and he became imprisoned in his desire to maintain a hold on some fragment of the her he always wanted.  Eventually, the passion faded, and the darkness was exchanged for grey.  As unhappy as that made him, it allowed him to gather his own fragmented strength and walk away.

Tiffany had her light.  Tiffany had her compassion. Tiffany had her love.  And even though he did not know it at first, Tiffany also had her darkness. Tiffany was great, and had almost all the fragments of her.  He started to forget about her and the reason he so loved the fragments of her that made Tiffany so wonderful to be with.   Tiffany seemed to have it all.  He was blissfully happy.  But there was one major fragment she had that Tiffany did not.  He didn’t realize it, but it would prove to be their undoing.  Tiffany lacked her trustworthiness.  Tiffany never cheated or betrayed him in any major way, but it seemed that she had a compulsion to tell the little lies about things that were really inconsequential.  Eventually, they proved to be too much and after one fight, he left.

He spent a while after that alone.  He started to question every decision he had made since she was gone.  Tiffany was trying to get back together and he was tempted to cave, knowing that almost all the fragments were better than none.  But he just knew he couldn’t accept her dishonesty, no matter how little her lies were.  He eventually decided to look for someone who would just be good for him, whether she had any fragments of her or not.

He met Marie online.  She was stable.  She shared his views on the world.  She was easy to talk with and he enjoyed spending time with her.  She had her own successful business, she could be sweetly affectionate, and she seemed to think he was a great match for her.  And in the analytical way she viewed relationships, he probably was.  But she was always analyzing everything.  It was to him, as if he was the answer to an algorithm that she had inputted into a program to find her perfect partner.  Their relationship seemed great on paper, but lacked fire.  If she felt passion for him, she was too in her head to show it.  If she loved him, she spent too much time believing it was based on a formula to give that love the weight it demanded.  He liked her, but she just couldn’t get his pulse racing the way he craved when she was reciting their connection as though it was a math problem.  Leaving her was hard, because he knew she was actually very good for him.  Still, it just wasn’t there.

He was lost and struggling.  It was one thing to be alone, but quite another to think that he could never again be happy because he could only find scattered fragments of the love he craved.  He couldn’t ignore the knowledge that he had once had it all, and could not be happy without it.

He was back in town for his twenty-year high school reunion.  He wasn’t exactly looking forward to going, but a couple of his friends convinced him to go and he knew he should try to be a little more social in order to stave off any depression.  He knew he wouldn’t see her there, as she graduated a year before him.  He drove past her mother’s house where they said goodbye before she went off to Harvard.  He did his best to hold off the tears as he remembered how awful he felt being so happy for her and so devastated for him.  He put his rental car into drive and was about to head to the pub to meet up with some friends before the official reunion commenced when the door to her mother’s house opened and she stepped out.  She smiled and walked to the car.  He put the car into park, shut off the ignition, and got out as she approached.

“Why are you in town?” he asked her.

“I was hoping you would be here for your reunion,” she began, “I didn’t expect you to be stalking my mom’s house, though,” she teased.

“I guess I’m just a bit masochistic,” he laughed.  “Although we had plenty of good times here too,” he added.  Then he realized she had just told him that she was in town specifically to see him.  “So, you came here just to see me?” he asked.

“I came here to get what I lost all those years ago.  I tried to move past you.  I saw pieces of you in others, but they weren’t you.  They were just a collection of fragments.”




He remembered the sideways light of the sun getting lower in the sky.  He remembered the way it seemed to illuminate her like a spotlight.

“I am so in love,” he told his best friend when he saw her for the first time.

“Dude, you’re always in love.  Besides, you have a girlfriend,” his friend replied as they eyed the two young women.

“Yeah, but this is…different,” he said, knowing that he had just set eyes on the woman who would define beauty and attraction for him for the rest of his life.

“But Jen is hot,” his friend told him as they got closer.

“But look at her,” was all he could say before having to stay quiet as they were approaching earshot.

They were standing in front of his friend Rachel’s house.  His friend Mike had a crush on Rachel, and at times Rachel returned Mike’s attraction.  This was one of those times.  In fact, they were headed to Rachel’s because Mike wanted to flirt with her and he only decided to go because Mike practically begged him.  He wasn’t really looking forward to their flirting as he would just be standing around twiddling his thumbs, but he also thought that maybe Rachel and Mike would actually get together so Mike would finally shut up about her.

He didn’t know Rachel had a friend over.

When he thinks back on it, he can’t remember why she was there.  He thinks her brother may have been dating Rachel’s older sister.  Or maybe her and Rachel met some other way.  He knew Rachel for years, and had never seen this lovely young woman before.  He might think to ask her sometime.

He broke up with his girlfriend the next chance he got, and after that they were always together.  He remembered meeting her at her locker.  They went to different schools, and he got out before her.  As soon as he was done, he would head to her school and wait for her right after class.  He remembered holding her hand, and being so happy in her presence.

He remembered her scent.  She smelled like baby powder and flowers.  He loved the feel of her porcelain skin as he would kiss her neck softly and breathe her in whenever they embraced.

He remembered the way she would kiss the back of his neck.  The shivers she could send throughout him.  Her touch was electric, not just to his body, but to his very soul.

He remembered the way she spoke to him.  Deep and poetic, aware of the strength of their love.  She had a deeper understanding of things than anyone he had ever met or would ever meet in his lifetime.  Their connection was immeasurable.

He remembered her kiss.  Her lips so soft.  She kissed him with both love and passion, and despite their young age, he had never been kissed better.  He remembered the kiss in the snow at night at the park.  The snow falling all around them.  He remembered telling her he loved her and knowing it was the truth.

But for years, he didn’t remember any of that.

All he could remember about her was the pain he felt when she told him she didn’t want to be with him anymore.

Twenty-four years later, he drove to pick his son up from soccer practice.  Apparently, his mother had not shown up again so it was dad to the rescue.  It made him so angry that she even wanted full custody considering how little she seemed to care about him.  He never let his son see how much he detested his mother, and even though he knew he could use the example in court during the upcoming custody appeal, he was still very upset his son was left alone.  He was a little glad to be picking him up, however.  Sure, he drove forty miles out of his way to get him, and his son was left alone, but at the very least he would get a chance to spend time with him, and maybe even take him for dinner and after-practice ice cream.

The sun was getting lower in the sky and cast a sideways light across the field as he walked to find his son.  He saw him at the far side of the pitch, standing with another boy from his team and…her.

His heart pounded in his chest as he approached.  Then some of the wonderful memories of her began to flood his senses.

“It’s you,” was all he could manage.

She didn’t say anything as a wave of emotion swept over her.  After what seemed like hours, she finally broke her gaze into his eyes and looked down at the two boys waiting and wondering what the hell the adults were they doing.

“Ian is yours?” she asked.

“Yes, but he lives with his mother,” he told her, trying to let her know definitively that he was available.  “Thank you for waiting here with him.”

“Of course, Xavier and him are best friends.  They are like brothers,” she told him.

He thought about the fact that she also had a son.  It must have shown up on his face.  He was searching his mind to find the right way to ask about Xavier’s father when she spoke again.

“Ian talks about his father all of the time.  He always talks about how great of a dad you are and how he wants to live with you.  I wish Xavier’s father had ever met him, or cared about him at all.”

They talked and decided to get dinner and ice cream.  They sat together and talked as they kept an eye on the playing children.   There was a lot of laughter and obvious love.  In a rare silence, he leaned in to kiss her, but she stopped him.

“I didn’t want to break up with you, back then,” she told him.

“Okay…” he said in a way prodding her to continue.

“My father found out about you.  He was a monster.  He made me leave you.  He said he’d kill you for dating me,” she told him.

“Yet here we are,” he smiled as he finished leaning in for their kiss.

In the next year, he would win custody of Ian.  Her and Xavier moved in after about eight months, and they married.  The happiness of their love unlocked all the memories that he had buried after the pain of the breakup.  As happy as he was to have those memories back, that happiness paled in comparison to how happy he felt knowing they had the rest of their lives to make more.





I Know

I notice patterns.  There is not much I do better than most people, but you should have known that particular thing about me.  I guess that is part of analyzing things to death.  In doing so, I see things the people who accept everything at face value might miss.

I know it was you.  I had known for a while, before I confronted you, but your denial confirmed it.  You had to know I would see.  Why would you let me see, without admitting to it?  Did you think I would be mad?  Did you think I would find it to be inappropriate?  Did you not realize how much I wanted it to be you?  How I would dream of it being you all of the time?  How your obsession with me feels like a dream come true?  Yet, you still tried to hide it.

In stopping it, or changing your method, you confirmed it was you.  I confronted no other.

Perhaps you didn’t think I would notice, but I think you are cunning enough to have considered that I would.  So the only other conclusion that can be drawn is that you want me to know.

But why?

If I didn’t want your attention, I have ways of preventing it.  If I thought you were improper, I would say so.  I did not.  I merely threw out that I had noticed, and was hoping you would take the bait.  You took it, and you let me see you were hooked on the line.

So why do you still not let me reel you in?

Why would you rather be on the line, dragged in my wake?  Let me pull you to me, if that is where you desire to be.

As you resist my attempts, I do not know if you want me to set you free, or to try harder to catch you.  I have cut the line before, and just when I think you have gone, you do something else to let me know you are there.  When you don’t respond, I think you want me to let you go.  But you never do go, do you?  No.  I know.

I know you asked for me.  I know, because I was asking for you at that same moment, that night, looking up at the sky.  I saw you, on the other side.  Looking up.  She showed you to me.  Did she show me to you?  Or was it you, who wanted me to see you?  Either way, I know.

I know you cried for me when I was captured by the enemy and was about to meet my fate.  I felt your tears from across the sky and they gave me the strength to break my restraints and escape.

I know you had that dream about us.  You know which one I am talking about.  I know you would be embarrassed if I were to go into detail, so I will spare you that.  But I know you dreamed it, and I know you pulled me into it.  I know the images of our bodies locked together in passion there in the falling snow still fill your mind, and I know they are filling your mind right now.

So why do you still hide?  I know it has been too long for it to be a game.  Are you afraid?  Do you think I will snare you in a trap?  I know you have been captured before.

I have no intentions of snaring you.  I am warrior, not a hunter.

I have nothing with which to trap you.  I do not carry the tools of a hunter.  I only have my desire to keep you wanting to stay with me.

Or maybe you are afraid I will see the sides you try to hide.  Maybe you fear I will see your demons and will run the other way.  Maybe you are worried I am too blinded by your light to know of the darkness within you.

But, my Goddess,

I know.

This is fiction.  Is there some basis in reality?  I know, do you? 



Seeing Things

I had an appointment with a psychologist this morning.  It was supposed to be just an intake appointment.  An initial assessment to consider what other therapy I would be needing.  Also just verifying the illnesses I have previously been diagnosed with and trying to determine a baseline level of symptom severity.  To that end, the doctor, asked me a question.

“Is there anything unusual that you have been experiencing lately besides the typical nightmares, the panic attacks, and the anxiety attacks?”

That’s when I told him about the visions.

During the day, fully conscious, I have been seeing things.

I see a woman, she is literally wearing hides draped and wrapped around her body.  She is smiling and laughing.  She is holding a carved bowl of berries.  She is standing near a river.  She turns and sees me, and comes running.  She is still happy.  She jumps into my arms and we kiss.

I see a hill.  There is a building with columns and wonderful works of art at the top.  There are people gathered all around, wearing what appear to be togas.  There is a circle of men and women all listening to one person speak.  I approach the circle to see who they are listening to at its center, and I see her.  She concludes speaking, and after applause and cheers, she runs through the circle into my arms, and we kiss.

I see a woman in a checkered dress.  She has a silver torc around her neck.  Her face has paint on it, and her clothes show some blood, but none appear to be hers.  Her hair falls in sweaty ringlets and she is clearly tired.  A few small fires smolder behind her, and there are dead and wounded people all around.  Most appear to be people wearing Roman soldier uniforms.  She looks up, and despite her exhaustion, smiles and runs toward me, jumping into my arms.  We kiss.

I see a street of cobblestone.  Carriages are moving through the street, and it is dark and cold.  Steam rises from the streets and people scurry through to the safety and warmth inside.  A carriage pulls up in front of me and stops.  The driver opens the door and she emerges from the carriage.  Her black and purple dress make her look like royalty as she glances up from the ground to see me.  Her eyes meet mine.  The recognition is instant.  She smiles and runs toward me.  She leaps into my arms and we kiss.

I see a wooden sidewalk next to a dirt street.  Stagecoaches move through, kicking up clouds of dust.  One skids to a stop in front of me.  The driver and the other man in front jump down from their positions with shotguns over their shoulders.  They open up the door to the coach and I see a gloved hand reach out for help from the coach.  Then a parasol.  Then I see her.  The brim of her hat obscures her vision as she looks down to ensure her footing, but then she looks up and catches my eye.  She smiles at me.  She says something to me, but I can’t hear it.  I approach her.  I grab her and kiss her.

I see a city street.  There are people everywhere.  Many of them are wearing uniforms.  There are people celebrating and cheering.  People piled up on cars, waving flags.  I see her.  She is wearing a business like grey dress.  Her dark hair is tightly kept and she looks very sharp.  She is smiling, but when she sees me, she starts to cry.  She takes off her heels and sprints to me, nearly knocking me over.  She kisses me.

I see a field.  There are people everywhere with signs.  There is a line of either police or guardsmen in riot gear surrounding us all.  Some people are shouting at the authorities, but most are just holding their signs and singing their songs.  Half the men in the crowd have long hair or some kind of Afro.  Most of the women have long straight hair, and people are wearing bell bottoms.  The mood appears to be tense but happy.  I see her.  She wears a light, long, flowing white dress.  She has a flower in her hair.  She is walking toward the line of authorities.  She has both her arms outstretched, and in one hand, holds a daisy.  She approaches one of the people with their rifles and puts the daisy into the barrel.  She smiles and turns around.  As she turns, she sees me.  She runs toward me, leaps into my arms, and we kiss.

I see a computer.  A post on WordPress.  I see her.  Reading the post, and feeling like those visions are a bit too familiar.  I see her wondering if there is any truth to this work of fiction.  I see her trying to talk herself out of her knowledge that I am talking about her.  She is you.  How YOU doin’?





He was exhausted.  When his head hit the pillow, he knew it would be only a few minutes before he was off to sleep.  He hoped that he would dream the same dream he’d been dreaming since he saw her again, just the week before.

He was coming out of the bookstore when he decided he really wanted an iced coffee.  He never really wanted iced coffee after he already had his morning coffee, but something made him crave it badly.  He walked across the plaza to the chain latte shop and stood in line behind a woman with dark hair, and a really nice butt.  He had to tell himself that staring was rude, so he did his best to focus on the menu board even though he knew exactly what he wanted.

The barista called her to the counter.  As she walked, she turned her head slightly and saw the man standing in line behind her.  It was her first love.

“Jordan?” she asked knowing exactly who she was looking at.

He looked down from the menu board to see the face of the girl with the nice butt.  He was stunned when he saw the eyes of the girl he wanted for so many years.

“Lilith?!?” he asked in utter shock.  “What are you doing in town?  Last I heard you were in California!”

“Well, I am back.  I don’t really like to talk about California,” she began.

She was interrupted by the barista asking in an annoyed tone what she could make for her.

“Iced venti quad no whip coconut milk white mocha, please,” she told the barista.

“Make that two!” he smiled as he stepped forward.  “I got this,” he told Lilith as he looked at her and pulled out his wallet.

“Thank you!” she said, sweetly.  “Do you have time to drink this with me and catch up?”

“Sure do!”

They found a table outside on the patio and watched the shoppers stroll by.  They talked with each other and went over the major events of their lives since last they saw each other.  They talked about seeing each other at school, and both thinking the other didn’t want to talk to them.  They talked about their failed marriages, the jobs they had done, the scars they carried, the way they viewed the world, and about how good it was to see each other.

They talked about everything they could.  Both talking and laughing well after the coffees had been finished, but they didn’t realize it.  Until the sunset came five hours later and the coffee shop was closing.

“I don’t want to leave you,” she said as she noticed the brilliantly pink and purple sky.

She grabbed his hand and led him to her car.

“I can bring you back to yours later,” she told him before kissing him and all but pushing him into the passenger seat of her car that he was more than happy to be pushed into.

They drove to her little apartment and she pulled him inside.  As soon as the door closed behind them, she jumped him and they made passionate love right there on the floor.  They then went to her bedroom and made love again before falling asleep in each others arms.

They awoke with the sun the next morning.  He told her he had an appointment later in the day, and she drove him back to his car.  They kissed goodbye when he suddenly pulled away.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, concerned.

“I don’t even have your phone number!” he laughed.

She put her number into his phone and told him to call her when he was done with her appointment.

Since that day, one week ago, every single dream he had was of her.  Both of them, meeting each other after many years, and having a night much like that night one week prior.  Unable and unwilling to fight that strange, intense, and powerful connection that caused them to fall right into each others arms.  His dreams were strange, though.  They took place in the past.

Tonight’s dreams were no exception.  The intense purple and pink sunset from the evening a week ago was there, she was there, he was there, but pretty much everything else was different.  There were horse-drawn carriages, and cobblestone streets.  The roadways were narrow, and lit by gas lanterns.  She worse a beautiful purple and black dress that belled outward, making her absolutely stunning wearing this old dress that he knew was something she could still get away with today.

The dream was similar to the day they shared a week earlier.  There was no coffee shop, but it basically involved them meeting after many years apart, being inexplicably drawn to each other, losing track of time, and making passionate love before falling asleep in each others arms.

He awoke the following morning, and lifted his arm from around her.  The movement caused her to wake up and roll over to face him.

“Good morning, love!” she smiled as blinked her eyes a few times to focus to the light.

“You’ll never believe the dreams I’ve been having!” he told her, excitedly.

“The ones where we meet and it’s all throughout history and we’re totally and crazily drawn to each other?” she asked before continuing, “They’re not dreams, they’re memories.  We’ve always found each other.  Duh!  Now let’s go get breakfast.”



Some women dress up to show it.  Some women have it in them.  She was that power.  It came through whether she was in a flowery dress, jeans and a sweatshirt, or her fetish gear.  She didn’t need to go all out for it to come through, but she could do that too.

He didn’t know his own power.  All of the years of torment and pain had taken its toll on him.  Sure, he survived it all, but he chalked that up to luck instead of something inside of him.  He didn’t think he was on her level.  He only knew that he wanted her for his own.  To be a part of her power.

He knew where hers came from.  She couldn’t even take a picture without it coming through.  No matter how bright her smile or how innocent her pose, her eyes betrayed the darkness she had absorbed.  She was powerful because nothing had ever been handed to her.  She had to learn to fight for everything she ever got in her life.  He knew that about her, but failed to see how that paralleled his own experience.

She saw it though.

So when they saw each other at the train station that day, there was an intense attraction and recognition unlike anything he had ever felt before.  He knew her from earlier in life.  They grew up together.  Both of them were always dating someone else, and so they had kept a distance between them.  He felt so strongly for her whenever she was around, but he was always in a relationship or she was, and he was not about to dishonor that.  He didn’t know she was feeling the same.

She had moved to London and he stayed back home in Manchester.  They kept in touch via Facebook and he would stalk her pictures on her profile from time to time.  They would wish each other happy birthday or congratulate each other on major events in each other’s lives, but he did not reveal how much he desired to be with her.

She desired him, but felt that he was happy and that she would just complicate his life.  She knew she could have anything she wanted, including him, but thought that he was happy with the life he had built in Manchester.  She watched from afar as he picked up the pieces after everything he had endured and created a seemingly happy existence.  She wouldn’t have wanted to take that from him, and so she kept her desire a secret.

So when he saw at her at Euston railway station as he was heading into London for a Chelsea game, he did not know what to do.  Fortunately for him, he did not have to make any choices because as soon as she saw him she ran to him and leaped into his arms.  It was all he could do to not proclaim his undying love for her right then and there as she wrapped her arms and legs around him.

They both laughed a little as he set her back down onto her feet on the platform.

“What are you doing here?” she asked excitedly.

He grabbed the Chelsea scarf around his neck and picked up a corner to bring it in front of her eyes.  “Gee, I don’t know, why would I be in London with all this Chelsea gear?” he teased.

“Maybe because you are a traitor and have forsaken two different major teams from your hometown for Chelsea,” she fired back with a smile.

“I’m also kind of checking it out.  I’m considering taking a job with Chamberlin, Powell, and Bon,” he added, nonchalantly.

“You got an offer?  They are only one of the biggest architecture firms in London!” she said, excitedly.

“Yeah,” he replied, embarrassed.

“Congratulations!  I always knew you could do anything you wanted!”

They stood there talking and getting caught up.  Neither one of them was seeing anyone.  They had both been single for a few months.  They talked about all of the things they had been through and all of the things that had gone on since they last saw each other.  He didn’t even realize how much time had passed and that he had completely missed the kickoff.  When he talked about his last breakup he was surprised when she mentioned that she knew, that she had seen the pain he was going through, and wanted to reach out but didn’t want to feel like she was pushing her own agenda.

“What agenda?” he asked her.

She looked him deep in the eyes, and he felt himself sink into her gaze as though he was being hypnotized when she told him, “I have wanted you from the first time I ever saw you.”

He didn’t know if he should be shocked, excited, or intimated.  He was all three.  But he wanted her for years.  He was quietly obsessed, and here she was telling him that she wanted him.  And he knew that she always got what she wanted.  He allowed the happiness to take over, and pushed the feelings of intimidation to the side.  He leaned in and kissed her.

He didn’t know how long they had been kissing for when he opened his eyes as they stopped and he became aware of the fading light.  It suddenly set in that he had not only missed the match, but probably needed to get on the train for the two-hour ride back to Manchester.

She became aware of the time too, and told him, “I’m sorry you missed your little game.  Go home and get things ready so you can hurry back to me.  Yeah?”

They kissed again and then he said goodbye to her.  He got aboard the train and thought about how monumental the day he just experienced had been.  As the train pulled away, he closed his eyes to better relive what had just happened.

When the train slammed into the other train, he didn’t know what happened.  The impact jarred him out of his daydreams as the cars in front of him either burst into flame or were thrown from the track.  The only thought he had time for before he lost consciousness was, “No, you are not taking this from me.”

She saw the impact from her car.  As the collision occurred, she thought to herself that she would not allow him to be taken from her.

He opened his eyes in the hospital to her face, feeling the power between them that saved his life.

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