When she smiled at me shyly and left my apartment, closing the door silently behind her, I had no answers, only more questions. Dammit but she confuses the hell out of me sometimes! I wish she’d just make up her mind.

I sat down heavily in my old overstuffed chair, running a hand through my hair. She was unlike anyone I’d ever known. She makes me laugh at stupid things, makes the most adorable noises when she’s happy, and it more of a free spirit than anyone I’ve ever met.

I guess that might be why I thought it was possible.

My questions were vitally important, but she didn’t seem to understand that. She just laughed and stroked my cheek and said, “Of course I love you sweetie. How could I not?” You say it, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. Even if you believe it. But even that is debatable.

I was just torturing myself, sitting there and thinking of her. I stood up and went into the kitchen to cook myself something. Her words kept running through my head. “Maybe it’s not what I thought I wanted, sweetie… but it is now.”

But then she goes off about her old boyfriend who she CLAIMS she doesn’t still love but then why is she talking about him?

I get out some cereal, too tired to bother with anything else. I smile as I remember the way she takes full-fat evaporated milk and drowns her other wise healthy granola in it, just laughing, “Oh well, I’ll dance it off later!”

I took my Cheerios into the other room. I ate a few bites before sighing, setting it down, and going to the mirror to look at myself.

My brown hair reaches my shoulders. I reach for a stray tube of red lipstick and reapply it slowly.

I sigh, and press my lips to a paper, blotting the lipstick, wishing it was her lips I was kissing, and not some old loose-leaf paper lying on my desk.