Photographer: Tomasz Zienkiewicz Photography
Dying
. . . Dead . . . Deceased . . .
It
doesn’t matter how many times I say it or how many different names
I give it, it still means the same thing. One of these days I’ll be
nothing but a passing memory, a familiar face in a forgotten photo.
But there's three things I need before this life of mine ends . . . I
need to tell him I love him more than life itself. I need to feel the
strength of his arms wrapped around me just one more night. Most of
all, I need him to forgive me. Eight years ago I broke the heart of
the only man I’ve ever loved and today I’m moving home in hopes
that he’ll let me put it back together. I’m not sure how many
breaths I have left, but I’ll use each and every last one fighting
for what I destroyed. My name is Laney Jacobs and this is my journey.
My
eyes catch on a formation and I sit up, squinting, trying to figure
out if I found it. I look at Levi and smile. “There, it’s right
there.” Closing one eye—because everyone knows that helps you see
better—I point to the stars and trace my finger around Corona
Borealis.
“No way.” Levi sits up and leans toward me so the sides of our
heads are touching. “Well, I’ll be damned.” We both turn to
look at each other at the same time and our noses nearly touch. His
smile slowly fades as his eyes drop to my mouth. The air around us
grows thick and my heart hammers inside my chest. I want so badly to
grab the back of his neck and yank him to me, but I refrain, knowing
this is a step that he needs to take. To my dismay, he clears his
throat and backs up, putting space between the two of us. “Um …
so … what do you want?”
“What do you mean, what do I want?” I ask, still too caught up in
the moment to fully comprehend what he’s talking about.
“You won. So you get to pick your prize.”
“Hmmm.” I flop back down on the ground and tap my bottom lip with
my finger. What do I want? “Nothing. I don’t want anything.” I
look to the sky and then back to Levi. He lowers himself to the
ground and looks over at me.
“Nothing?”
“Nope. This is perfect.” Our eyes stay locked for several
seconds, but the connection is too intense and I have to look away or
I’ll physically melt. “I’m just glad we got to spend some time
together, just you and me. It’s been really nice, Levi. So this is
it. You’ve already given me what I want.” I take a deep
satisfying breath, chancing a quick glance back at him. He’s
grinning from ear to ear, and I swear that his smile alone could
light up the darkest of nights. His features have softened, his eyes
are sparkling with happiness, and I’m glad it’s directed at me.
“Okay.” His warm voice evaporates into the evening air and I
sigh, knowing that right now, in this very second, everything has
changed. We seem to have found our footing again and some sort of
peace, and I can only hope that it will grow from here.
K.L.
Grayson resides in a small town outside of St. Louis, MO. She is
entertained daily by her extraordinary husband, who will forever
inspire every good quality she writes in a man. Her entire life rests
in the palms of six dirty little hands, and when the day is over and
those pint-sized cherubs have been washed and tucked into bed, you
can find her typing away furiously on her computer. She has a love
for alpha-males, brownies, reading, tattoos, sunglasses, and happy
endings…and not particularly in that order.
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