I was sitting in a bar when I saw him across the room. He was with a group of people. I could tell he was happy. But something’s always missing, isn’t it? I left him sitting there in that happy bubble.
The next time I was sitting at the same bar, he came up to me. He took my hand and he started running. We ran through the city, down a never ending sidewalk. The sidewalk led us through an apartment complex. Then suddenly, the sidewalk washed away and all there was in front of us was the bluest water. I dipped my toes in and it warmed my entire body. I turned around to look at him and he was naked, jumping into the water. I followed suit. I wrapped my legs around him as we were floating in the middle of the universe. But nothing that perfect lasts long, does it? We were yanked back to reality by people shouting at us on the edge of the pool.
We got out and covered ourselves, but they were going to arrest us.
The only way to save him, and I felt as though it was my responsibility to do so, was to tell the jury of people standing before my all of my deepest and darkest secrets. If they felt enough pity for my humiliation, maybe that would save him.
And so I spilled, and he was out of sight but I know he was just around the corner listening to my every word. I was willing to sacrifice myself to save him, but he wasn’t even willing to support me.
In the end, they let us go. And we walked back the way we came along the sidewalk. But this time, we weren’t running. We weren’t even holding hands. We just walked, holding our shoes in our hands as the soles of our feet slapped against the concrete. When we got to the bar, he wet back to his bubble and I sat down in my corner. Like it never happened.