The soft female voice of the XX sings from my Crosley. It’s a little scratchy, yet comforting as two bodies lay in bed. We are so still; we wouldn’t scare off a deer. And we are so close. The next songs plays on and we are so still. Listening, breathing and thinking about nothing. We are like stones; the world is like water, always moving so fast. My eyes flutter open and I look over at Him. His eyelids are closed like He is asleep, but I know He can hear the music. He doesn’t open then and I just stare. Because in that instant, I think I love Him. But then it vanishes, and my eyes close again. And I am enraptured in the instance, my thoughts and the warmth of His body.
The last song on Side A ends and I get up quietly and flip the record over. He doesn’t move. The music doesn’t stop for Him. And we relive the moment all over again. In my apartment where 4 other people roam around in. We are still and we can be still. It’s unusual to just be still and reflect or think about absolutely nothing. This moment was the epitome of my being. These are the moments I imagine and always crave. A happenstance that lasted longer than a moment; a string of moments. And the only thing I wonder —is if He had the same thoughts.
Fleeting moments of clarity 