Thursday, August 22, 2013

the problem

The problem was that she could fall in love with anybody that she wanted to. She could just look at someone and suddenly love them. Sometimes it was the way the back of a head looked, or the in-between color of a passerby’s skin, or someone’s work ethic. Other times it was the sound of someone clearing their throat, a sound which she had always found annoying until she woke up one morning and just decided to be in love with it. The worst was when she would tell me that she loved someone because they loved her first. “Why do you love him?” I would ask over a cup of coffee that had gone cold, only half-amused with whomever had been cursed as the object of her affection for the day. She would cock her head to the side and smile, shamelessly flirting with her eyes. “Because he loved me first. That's why.” 

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