American Yarnprose>The Great American Love Story (AKA Novel As One Page)

The Great American Love Story (AKA Novel As One Page)

When she told me it was over, we was finished. I went home and drank heavily. I didn’t know if I could go on, if I could make it by myself. I drank more. More. More. More. And more, till I couldn’t see straight or stand tall.

We was everything.

Ha.

“The coo some two some,” old Joe from the bowling alley used to call us whenever we came around. We was inseparable. Heh. “The Siamese twins,” Betty the mail-lady used to say whenever she saw us holding hands, hugging and other forms of public affection.

Fact was, we was private people. We didn’t share our secrets with nobody. We talked for hours on end.

Swore that we loved each other until the very end.

Right.

I remember the first time I saw her. She was carrying her books home from the library. Nobody ever gave her the time of day, except for me. Later that day, I saw her at the grocery store, looking through the apples and pears. We glanced at each other, trading smiles. I felt good. Perhaps she did too. That night, I saw her at the corner bar, sipping a cocktail. I asked her what name she went by…she, the same with me.

We talked and talked about everything and nothing the whole night through. We closed the bar. I walked her home. She invited me in, so in I went. We talked some more, though this time nothing made sense and everything was nothing in disguise.

We stopped talking.

We started kissing. Hugging. Touching. Probing our tongues all over each other. We felt each other. Bodies sandwiched together. The temperature rose. We burned! We sizzled! When we made love it was like nothing ever before. A cliché perhaps, but the truth. She moaned, I groaned. I sighed, she cried. I dove she drove. I caressed, she confessed.

We were in love. Deep love. Good love. Passionate love. Burning love. Hot love. Puppy love. Man love. Woman love. Adult love. Couple love. Plain love. Romantic love. Old-fashioned love.

We grew together. Grew like trees. Blossomed like flowers. We changed the world, our world, overnight. She loved me. I loved her. Love is a loving word, though none really know the true meaning. We have figured out that it does mean love.

In the morning, she was glowing, her eyes starry. We made love again, stronger than before. It was what I thought to be a bond, our bodies interlocking forever.

The phone rang. It was her, asking for her albums back. I knew the end had come, but why? Why did it have to end this way? I stared at the liquor bottle and downed another swig. I fell to the floor. The flooding would start soon. I went to get the sandbags, but none were there, just empty bags and bricks.

Blood-shot and teary-eyed, I hugged the bottle and took another swig.