I think it’s strange when you just met someone, and you’re talking with them, and a friend of theirs comes up, who you don’t know at all, and she starts talking about how she wants to get with the person’s younger brother, because of how cute he is, so you’re kind of just there to think
I miss you so badly, you know. If you read this, you’d know. But I can’t tell you because I feel trapped, trapped, trapped, in everything.
And you tried to call me tonight, and I was extremely close to picking up the phone, and I thought about what you would say much more than what i would have said. That’s the funny thing. I thought about what you’d say, and how you’d sound, and my stomach turned, but I knew I couldn’t pick up.
But I miss you, especially tonight. I always tried so hard to communicate clearly with you, and I just can’t do it in this situation, now. I’m just trapped and not ready to say what I need to say.
When I feel old and tired at this age, i almost want to cry. Gray hair in my beard and a back that forces me to bend at 20 years old does not bid well for me.
The way you handle people confuses me, and it confuses me the way that i handle people, too. In this case, i write you as if it’s one person, but it feels like several people could fit the sentence in my mind, so i’m writing towards a generality.
Fall fell down on West Macon and rode in with the leaves, passing up the green colors that were leaving town on one side of the highway, and rode in with shades of red, orange, and brown. Cornelius didn’t mind because the temperatures were going to drop, and had began founding reasons to enjoy things again. Even if sometimes it seemed like the reasons slipped his mind. But at any rate, there was a chill in the air that was much appreciated. It contrasted with the warmth that seemed to be surrounding everyone.
Sara Bridgewater called on the fourth Tuesday of the month.
"How are you doing, Cornelius?" Her voice still sounded like candy canes. Too early to be around when it wasn’t December, and when the snow had settled on everything in town. But not necessarily unpleasant to have, either.
"I’m doing fine, what about you?" Cornelius pulled the phone cord against his body and it brushed his chin. He remembered the time that Sara had first told him that she loved him. It had been a while since then.
"Oh, I’m doing great, really." Sara made it seem like her own feelings were an afterthought. Cornelius considered that maybe, they were. But who knew besides her.
"That’s good to hear." Cornelius couldn’t help but smile.
The leaves fell down on West Macon with the Fall. Sara and Cornelius, there in the kitchen, the phone cords pulled against them.