You Could Kiss Me

Just something I wrote up. I liked it the, will probably hate it later.

‘I want to kiss someone.’

 

‘Who?’

 

‘I don’t know. Anyone. I just want to kiss someone.’

 

‘Nothing else?’

 

‘I haven’t done anything else before.’

 

‘Why not?’

 

‘What do you mean why not? Have you?’

 

‘No.’

 

‘Why not?’

 

‘You suck.’

 

‘Not yet I don’t.’

 

 

 

Nobody spoke for a moment.

 

 

 

‘I still want to kiss someone.’

 

‘You could kiss me.’

 

‘Nah. You’re my friend, it’d be awkward when we finish.’

 

‘Who’re you going to kiss then?’

 

‘I don’t know. What does Sam kiss like?’

 

‘Good. Not great but good.’

 

‘So, no to him then?’

 

‘No to him.’

 

‘Who can I kiss?’

 

‘I don’t know. Charlotte?’

 

‘No. Charlotte can’t kiss.’

 

‘How do you know?’

 

‘I kissed her last week.’

 

‘Oh. Why didn’t you tell me?’

 

‘You were too busy telling me you kissed Darryn.’

 

‘Oh. Sorry.’

 

‘It’s okay. She wasn’t that great anyway. I didn’t really want to tell you.’

 

 

 

A clock in the room ticked.

 

 

 

‘You could kiss the dog.’

 

‘No thanks.’

 

‘Why not?’

 

‘Why would I? Too much fur.’

 

‘Plus it’s gross.’

 

‘That too.’

 

 

 

The dog woofed and wagged its tail.

 

 

 

‘Dogs are dumb.’

 

‘Yep.’

 

‘Are we dumb?’

 

‘I don’t know.’

 

‘The dog probably thinks we’re dumb.’

 

‘Probably.’

 

‘Is that why we think the dog’s dumb?’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Because it thinks we’re dumb?’

 

‘I don’t know.’

 

 

 

A bare foot rubbed on the carpet.

 

 

 

‘Your floor is soft.’

 

‘Yep.’

 

‘I wish we had carpet.’

 

‘Why don’t you?’

 

‘We have wood floors.’

 

‘Oh.’

 

‘Yep.’

 

 

 

There was a small silence. The dog wagged its tail and a car beeped outside.

 

 

 

‘Hey.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘I still want to kiss someone.’

 

‘Oh.’

 

‘Yep.’

 

‘You could kiss me.’

 

‘Should I?’

 

‘I don’t know. Do you want to?’

 

‘I want to kiss someone.’

 

‘I know.’

 

‘Do you want me to kiss you?’

 

‘I don’t know.’

 

‘Oh. So no then?’

 

‘I didn’t say no.’

 

‘But you said you don’t know. That means no.’

 

‘Oh.’

 

‘Yep.’

 

‘Will you?’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Kiss me.’

 

‘I don’t know.’

 

‘So no then.’

 

‘No.’

 

‘Oh.’

 

‘Yep.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Yep. I said yep.’

 

‘Yep to what?’

 

‘Yep to will I kiss you.’

 

‘Oh. Really?’

 

‘Yep. I want to kiss someone, and you want me to kiss you.’

 

‘So why aren’t you?’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Kissing me.’

 

‘Oh. Just wait.’

 

‘Why?’

 

‘Why what?’

 

‘Why wait?’

 

‘Oh. I have to build up.’

 

‘Build what?’

 

‘Me.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘Wait.’

 

‘Okay.’

 

‘Good now.’

 

‘What?’

 

‘I can kiss you now.’

 

‘Oh. Good.’

 

 

 

A kiss was shared and a tap dripped somewhere in the house.

 

 

 

‘Was it good?’

 

‘What?’

 

‘The kiss. Was it good?’

 

‘Oh. It was really good.’

 

‘Do you want to again?’

 

‘Okay.’

 

 

 

 

 

--

 

I’m going to dare you to ask. I have no idea but go ahead and ask. Bleh.

 

I’m in a kissing mood with no one to kiss so go ahead and ask. Actually, no, don’t. It’s weird. I’m not sure anyone even talks like this. Maybe we do and I just don’t realise. Or we don’t realise. I don’t know. I’m tired.

 

No story here, no backstory, not even names for the two. Or the dog. I’ll give you the car that beeped though. A Holden station wagon. I don’t know cars. It was the first type I thought of other than a Farrari, but I’ve never seen a Farrari. I’ve been in a station wagon though. We used to own one before we sold it then got an almost identical car. The only difference is the new one doesn’t have a kayak sticker on the back window. I think the numberplate’s different too. I don’t know.

 

There’s half as many words in my authors note as there is the actual story. If you can call it that.

 

It’s words. Words are words and words make stories. People read stories but not everything people read is a story.

 

The End

0 comments about this story Feed