Blades of Grass

Adam’s kiss was sweet – soft but passionate. It left my lips tingling and my mind in a heated frenzy. His hands were smooth and cool, caressing my flushed cheeks tenderly, the other locked in a tangle of my auburn hair. We were unaware of the atmosphere around us. I was so absorbed in his blue-eyed gaze that it seemed futile that he had brought me all this way to watch the sunset, but for the two and a half years that we were dating, I gradually grew accustomed to his romantic ways of doing things.

As we slowly broke apart, I noticed a change in his pleasant expression to one of hesitation. He opened his mouth to say something, but immediately closed it. I looked into his eyes and saw the spectre of misery floating beneath his pupils. he blinked before it has a chance to form into a tear.

“What’s up?” I asked, gently nudging him and shooting him that half-smile he had always told me was cute.

“Nothing,” he replied, picking a blade of grass and  twiddling it between his finger and thumb absentmindedly. I waited for a moment to see if he would change his answer then sighed, disappointed.

“You always were a bad liar,” I said, stealing the blade of grass he had suddenly become so interested in and leant in to kiss him.

“Hey, give it back!” He said, darting away from my lips and playfully reaching out to snag it back.

“Never,” I yelled, already racing down the hill we had been laying on that late afternoon with it gripped tightly in my hand.

Eventually Adam caught up with me, out of breath.

“That's why you don't mess with a cross country runner," I teased, dancing around his hunched over figure. "Are you alright there, Grass Boy?"

“I’m...I’m fine,” he wheezed. We both sat down again and I handed him back the blade of grass. He looked at it for a minute, lying there in the palm of his hand before the light breeze lifted it up and carried it away.

“You know, we’re all just blades of grass,” he began in his soothing voice, the one that he used when he wanted people to listen. “It’s only a matter of time before one of us is ripped away from our warm, anchoring soil, carried off by the hands of the Great Wind and into the unknown.”

I could not ignore the pain that his calm expression could mask no longer. I could not bear it. But like a heartless fool, I looked away and sat there quietly during the sunset, never uttering a single word until he had walked me home.

“Same time tomorrow?”


My silence that day, and in the following months, was my biggest regret. I should have said something sooner to show that though I may not have completely understood, I still cared, and then maybe things would have ended better. If only I had known what he truly meant that day, about the blades of grass.

The End

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