Day 223 (Strawberry)

A man falls in love through his eyes, a woman through her ears. - Woodrow Wyatt


"What's wrong?"

I stare off into the night sky, as we sit on the cold, hard bench. "Nothing. I'm ok," I respond.

"Doesn't seem like it," she replies. "It's almost as if you're somewhere else, instead of enjoying your time with me."

I sigh. I inhale. I exhale. I fidget. I inhale. I exhale. I clear my throat.

"Tell me you love me," I finally say.

"You know I do, Jay."

"But I need to hear you say it."

"Why?"

Exasperated, I ask "Please, just say it."

She turns her face up, contorts it, disfigures it until it no longer looks like the angel's face I've come to adore. She grabs my face, pulls it close to hers, close enough for me to smell the sweet mix of Chardonnay and Spearmint.

"Jay, -"

I see her mouth the words I love you. But for some reason, I can't hear her voice when she says it. I heard her call out my full name. I felt the vibrations of her vocal cords ripple through her throat and end up in my eardrums, beating a sound so sonically delightful that I almost shudder at the mere thought of the sound of her, but I don't hear those three words. I turn away.

Almost as if someone had pressed the mute button to cut the volume back up, I hear her again.

"You happy? I said -. And you know I do."

Again, those three words, those three words that I need to hear more than the sound of my own voice at the moment again mute themselves from me, almost as if I don't deserve to feel their embrace.

I look into her eyes.

The look on my face says I don't believe her.

The look in her eyes says she doesn't believe her either.

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