Liquid Like This

Yesterday was a great day. The day before yesterday was a great day. I can't quite recall the moment when the greatness began. Wait, I just lied. I do remember, I just hadn't thought that I would go into it like this - handing over details with my palms open and my fingers unfurled. I am itching to hit the backspace button. I am itching to hold the button down and leave the screen blank, but I'll just have to accept that I have lost control of my words. There is nothing to do but deal with the fact that I cannot have precision.

I remember the moment that all of the greatness began with clarity. I was waiting by the front door, with a hand on my hip and an eye on the driveway. He pulled up in that stupid truck. I was going to delete that sentence due to the adjective. I've always told him that I love that truck, but here I am pouring out the words and I've called it stupid. I suppose I used the word because the way that my chest ached when I saw it eight feet away from me - was stupid. As if being that close, wasn't close enough.

See, I do remember when the greatness began, when I swung myself into the passenger seat, or a few moments prior. We were heading down the interstate in the darkness, with the streetlights alone to mark our passing, the windows were down and the music was loud. This was the moment. It only became a fluid strand of 'better' from here. There was so much of it that it melded together. If I could drink every day that were liquid like this, I could live forever.



The End

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