Short story.

Laughing In The Demon's Face.

That year, I'll always remember, was the year we let the mighty river between us run dry. Once... hah, you'll never believe me. But there was a time, once, when we slept next to each other, and in the safety of the night our breath would intertwine, and speak silent soliloquies of simple bliss to the air that our bodies warmed. Yeah, there was that time. There was a time once, before the river ran dry, when the subtext of our every conversation was I love you. How was your day. (I love you) Mine was good too. (I love you) We should just stay in bed today. Yeah? Yeah, yeah because... (I love you)

Yes. Once upon a time before time killed me and you, we walked round in a daze. Day-to-day life was an uneventful sleep but you were pure dreamtime. There was a time when we made the mundane magical and explored space in our heads, there was a time when obstacles were obsolete and singing seemed natural, there was a time when we were invincible, there was a time there was a time there was a time.

And now... well now even idle conversation seems a hopeless utopia. We've been left alone in a room together, god knows how because we didn't intend it. And I know, I know what you're thinking about, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did. I don't say that of course. Instead we exchange trivialities. Each statement seems to fly from our lips to the middle of the room and then fall, pathetically, weighed down by history. So we stop. I glance at her and she looks at the floor. Wretched silence fills the room like a black hole. It's grotesque.

"I'm so sorry" I say, and it's the first sincere thing to pass between us for months.

She looks up and gazes at me for a time unmeasured. My throat tightens. And then... and then the floodgates open and our river runs again. We talk. We talk! We shout and scream in fact, and sob, and then talk some more until we're both weary with the effort of it, and collapse, breathing shakily. Nothing more is said. Eventually we slip away into sleep, leaving the morning to bring what it may.

I'm half-woken the next morning as she climbs over me on her way out. Our eyes meet as mine flicker open and she pauses. Then whispers, I forgive you. She leaves and I fall back to sleep hoping and praying that it's true.

A few days later, we're walking together quietly. I reach for her hand, and she hesitates but then smiles and takes it. We interlace fingers.

dance!jump!sing! pursue your dreams with wild abandon pick flowers and learn to yodel do cartwheels for no reason spit at adversity live with soul wide open and eyes glazed at the beauty of the world and all it's contents. Laugh in the demon's face.