Tonight The Girl is up for yet another award in her career. She is as lovely in her long black dress as she was in her pajamas this morning. But don’t tell her I put that on the internet.
To watch my girl work is a miracle of a thing. I’ve had the pleasure on many occasions and yet she always finds new ways to impress me and those who she is working with and/or alongside.
I tell her often that I struggle to write about her. This is primarily a selfish failure, as I tend to be very protective of her. I want her all to myself.
But there is a more practical failure, and that is one of language. There are simply not words that communicate precisely how I see her – much like the way that photographs never quite capture the majesty of a sunset as you’re seeing it in situ.
But considering her today, there is at least one word that applies to the whole of her being: brave. She never stops moving, working, thinking, failing, trying – and so she’s also yet to stop succeeding.
Tonight, then, is significant. But it is just one step on the journey I’m lucky to get to share with her.
He was watching the news. Something bad was happening in Syria.
She was in the other room getting undressed. She thought about what she had just read on her phone. Something bad was happening in Syria.
She used the master control to turn off the lights. The apartment fell dark and this had the effect of making the television seem somehow brighter. The intensity of the broadcast violence was thusly amplified. Something very bad was happening in Syria.
The television was muted. The only audible sounds were those made by the passing traffic twelve stories below and the impact of her bare feet as she walked toward him across the carpeted floor. She was wearing only a pale blue bra and matching panties. The light from the television danced across her bare skin. It was performance art. He was a captive audience. The pale projection of an explosion reflected across the small of her back. Something very bad was happening in Syria.
She straddled his lap and put her hands on either side of his face. The kiss that she gave him made him think of the first time they had kissed. Her lips had been pillowy then. Her lips were pillowy now. Her body was warm. His body was warm. She turned off the television.
Something good was happening.
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Neither of them moved or spoke. An undergraduate refilled their glasses. The horn of an unseen car honked succinctly, providing an auditory punctuation that neither of them could muster.