When I saw him for the first time, in his black hoodie, green wool mittens and steel toed boots, his straight hair sticking up in angles only ever accomplished by lots and lots of hairspray (and I should know) or naturally achieved by some gifted magic of Japanese genetics (he should know) I knew I’d never see another boy the same way. And when I put down the green tea latte I picked with him in mind and the skinny cinnamon dolce latte for myself and melted into his arms I knew I was home. It was that easy. At least that part was.
Her:
Turnback Girl: An old school blues cat sees a gal walking down the street. Her hair is piled on top of her head; daring gravity and laughing in the face of wind sheer. Her feet sport an ironically sensible pair of four inch platform wedges. Between the two poles, high-waisted trousers, a button down blouse and red lips push this girl out of the context of the bustling sidewalk. Back on the restaurant’s stage the blues cat dubs her the turnback girl and keeps on playing. He’ll relate this to her later, when he bumps into her for the first and last time.
Him:
Gamer Boy: He slips between books like most people flip channels to avoid commercials; his mind doing the kind of multitasking one would expect from a Nobel laureate on the edge of a great discovery. Stolen moments of pure imagination make him part of the story and a controller allows him to live in the dreams of others. Other worlds can become real and in turn make this one more inspired. A necessary outlet for overwhelming creativity and possibility.
And now we are a them. And that is what I haven’t figured out yet. And that is what we haven’t figured out yet. This year starts waking up next to each other, the first full year living together. He picked up and moved 80 miles to my front door and we embarked on a life together last July and after two very busy hospitality summers, we finally get to try and figure this out.
Máire Sublime 