Since people enjoyed the experiment so much, it returns...
Better
After we came to the cabin. It occurred to me that we’d forgotten something vital. For the life of me I couldn’t remember what it was I was looking for. Or what was missing. I’d picked her up late, so it must have been something I missed in my haste.
It started as a simple argument, but escalated tremendously. You know, one of those heated discussions where you can’t remember what you were angry about? One of those arguments where there’s something else wrong? We’d missed each other by moments. I’d mistakenly thought that she was supposed to meet me outside of the terminal and waited for her in the garage - at the wrong airport.
Her hands told me she was angry. They’re like an extension of her feelings, but she never reacted with violence. Like a manic hurricane of nervousness, she threw them about, but it was more like extreme emphasis. I tried to hold them, to calm her down with my touch, but she brushed them aside and I died a little.
We talked aggressively, giving no verbal quarter. Snipping out of bitterness and agitation. What she said to me did not hurt as much as the effects my statements had on her. Epithets streamed from our mouths with reckless abandon, escaping our minds before we could think about what we were saying. I always knew that she could bring out the best in me, but it follows that she could also bring out the worst. How we made such a commotion over a simple misunderstanding was evidence of something more; something amiss from our ardor.
Her eyes were always so passionate. It was a torrent of daggers at times, but I could still see the obvious hurt. Trembling with frustration, but still exuding confidence. Their deep brown paralyzed me, but my own eyes blurred with confusion over the row. She’d brush her hair out of her eyes with her slender hands, and I’d fall in love all over again.
I remember waiting for her, being so afraid something had occurred. Afraid something happened on the flight. I walked around frantically looking for her. I had her paged to no avail. Unfortunately, my mistake wasn’t apparent for an hour’s time.
Hot tears streamed from my eyes as I drove home cursing myself for stupidity. Moronic I believed myself to be and even worse is how she made me feel for what I had done, and for things I had no knowledge of.
She yelled and looked at me with dismay. On the verge of tears and with her voice quivering she looked so forlorn. I told her it was ok, because she was there with me now. I told her it was ok to be angry, our anger was born from our feelings for each other. I told her even though I knew it was wrong to believe so, for the damage was irreparable and a chasm had been excavated fiercely through our ire.
I thought I could make it better, but all I remember is her voice drifting off like satin sheets moving wistfully in a light breeze. Blowing away while our tears intermingled on the pillow and the love evaporated from our lives.
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