If these days were to be a person, they'd be a lady; with blow dried combed back hair whose been married awhile, but not that long. She still meets old acquaintances who'll say, What's been happening(with you?) and she'll say oh I got married early last year. And there's a secret growing inside her, a secret with feet and a tummy and no one knows and she's bursting to tell him when he gets back.
Or if I was to be a day, I'd be a late thursday afternoon, with water droplets drying off me as an indulgent sun watches over my water splashing. And the icecream cone I'll have before I pick up my things and head into the evening.
And he'd be a saturday dawn, before the twilight rays strike and he crawls into bed, after a night spent devouring a book, such as Prep, with a mug of the last cold dregs of coffee beside him and a crumpled cigarette packet.
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