What Jane Doe Said And What Jane Doe Did

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Her lips brushed away from John Doe’s skin, and the world started moving again. His teeth refrained from biting down too hard on his own, dry ones but nothing could prevent the sharp intake of cool breath which he allowed to massage his lungs in the night.

 

Her lips brushed away from John Doe’s skin, and the world started moving again. His teeth refrained from biting down too hard on his own, dry ones but nothing could prevent the sharp intake of cool breath which he allowed to massage his lungs in the night.

But there’s one problem. That’s me trying oh-so very hard to stop myself from biting down on my pursed, pink lips, and I’m the John Doe touching my chest with nimble fingers. Inside the fossilized building behind us, a student band “Whigs and Rakes,” is falling into full swing as they beckon the crowd into bouncing/raving/moshing to their screechy vocals and vibrations. Take your pick of whatever clichéd dancing suits you best.

I glance over this girls’ flaming hair into the deserted car park. We’ve been here before, her and I. Not this literal place, but a metaphorical one. I’m not too sure about what she wants, but my mind’s buzzing with her mischievous grin, contrasted only by her concerned eyes. Oh god her eyes…

Imagine you’re staring into a pool of clear water, untainted and pure. Now imagine at the bottom of this pool you spot a sapphire, moulded by an unseen tide but more beautiful purely because its’ being there is a mystery. As you dip your hand into the aqua you don’t feel the moisture, but instead the smooth texture of this little gem as you pull it from the depths. As you hold it in the silver sliver of moonlight and gaze upon its wonder, a droplet of black ink falls from the sky and splashes delicately right into the centre of your jewel.

That’s what I’m looking at now as our breath is drawn in unison.

It’s a good thing you intruded on us so late. If you’d been eavesdropping/sightseeing/ godknowswhat-ing a few moments earlier instead of now you would have spotted this tribal redhead and I interlocked in each others arms, hands exploring chestnut and fiery hair in turn and our lips tenderly sensing the intensity of our desire. But you missed that, so good for you.

Replay that scene thrice but with a different setting each time and you would have yourself a montage of myself feeling loves’ tender embrace as my arms wrap around this same girl each time. As we stare into one another’s eyes and I feel myself plunge head-first into that pool with a sapphire winking at the bottom, she whispers some words into my ear and I fade away as her accent trickles into my thoughts.

What does she say? Well that’s none of your business now, is it?

She stopped me from going back inside, this girl. When she said “sorry,” for the seventh time literally and the billionth time figuratively for hurting me before I told her with only a couple of ice cubes in my throat that it was fine and that I was going back inside to enjoy the music. Her hand had caught my sleeve and I had felt myself freeze immediately. It took the flames of her hair stroking my cheek to melt me back to my original state, though afterwards I was shivering and vulnerable. It was then she had taken her moment to wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me with the passion of a girl who knew exactly what she wanted, but didn’t know all the same.

This will happen again, mark my words. After tonight when I ask her if she wants to do something/go and get a coffee/see a movie she’ll tell me we need to have a serious talk and I will understand. We won’t bother with this serious talk. After all, what’s the point in levelling with a person who sees you only as a tool to hammer nails into whatever excuse they have for such a concubine character?  Seeing as you’re standing there I’ll tell you; there is no point.

But of course the next time we’re alone together and the sun has been strangled into darkness by the moon, and the stars have come out to illuminate my humiliation we’ll be together, and she’ll melt my rational thinking into a pool of icy water to hide sapphires in.

“I love you,” the John Doe says breathlessly, and for miles around everybody can hear the foolishness in his voice. If there ever was a jester to laugh at, it’s him when he’s with her.

Look on with me and laugh at his naïvety. There’s a reason why her hair is ablaze and why her skin smoulders, even though clouds of frost fall from her lips every time she breathes out. Fools’ gold is for treasure hunters, fools’ jewels are for those who hunt for love. Inexperience could be blamed for such cynicism, but you don’t need experience to see some things for what they truly are, so allow me to let you in on a little secret.

Love is a lie, and there are no happy endings.

 


Submitted: January 22, 2012

© Copyright 2022 Alex Lamont. All rights reserved.

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