When we met

He’s dead. Except that he’s not. Our love died, tragically. Never have I thought he would become a stranger. All those nights we spent lying on the grass, looking at the stars or lying in his bed, looking at the ceiling. We would talk for hours with no end about anything and everything. Now I’m lying alone in my bed, looking at the ceiling, thinking about him. 

He left and took a part of my heart with him. I don’t blame him for leaving. Whenever I would feel like this, I would call him. Now he’s gone, and I’m not sure what to do, who to call. 

We met years ago in a cinema. My friends and I went to watch the minions, so did he and his friends. We were seated next to each other and talked the whole time while throwing popcorn and at the people in front of us. It became a tradition. He gave me his number after the film, and we texted or called every evening until one of us fell asleep. Two weeks later, he asked me out on a date. Again a film, but this with dinner in a Greek restaurant afterwards. We watched a rom-com about a guy and a girl who met on a plane to San Francisco and spent their holiday together. I liked the film and told him to listen, so we could talk about it at dinner. So he did. I ordered a salad and fries, he had a burger, and we shared an ice tea and a lemonade. We spent hours in the restaurant sharing not just our thoughts and feelings about the film. I knew him for only two weeks, and it felt like I could tell him the deepest secrets of my heart. We talked about love and holiday, our friends and families, pets and fears, and the food in the restaurant. By the time we finished eating and talking, it was rather late and dark outside. He walked me home even though it would have been much faster by bus. 

Only after a few weeks I felt like I knew him my whole life. Never have I felt so comfortable and so safe around another person. I could tell him all my secrets, and he would keep all of them safe, locked away in his heart.

I remember our first kiss as if it had been yesterday. It was after our third date. We went ice skating and drank hot chocolate. On our way home, it started to snow. White flocks fell softly down and melted on his brown hair. We tried catching them on our tongue as if we were children. I forgot all about the cold and the pain in my arm from falling down in the ice rink. All I could think about was the snow and his smile and the moment. We looked at each other and suddenly everything was quiet. The whole world stopped spinning for a few seconds, all the people around us disappeared. Suddenly, he took a step towards me, grabbed me by the waist with one hand while the other hand cupped my face. I didn’t even care about his cold fingers, the only thing that mattered were his lips, which connected softly with mine. It was a sweet kiss. It didn’t last too long. His lips were raw from the cold, but they still managed to give me a hot feeling in my entire body. Him. Him. Him. It was an indescribable feeling. 

That night I couldn’t sleep for a minute, too busy reliving the moment.