kea-alwang

So I__ figuring this is death. The little air left in the cockpit is toxic with marthenine, and I can only wonder how much of it I have breathed in. Is my throat becoming raw hamburger? My lungs, oatmeal?

That__ when I notice Cheryl and Mickey cuddled up on the couch. She__ leaning on his shoulder, his arm around her, her leg across his lap. Cheryl throws glances at Kerry that say, __ook at me!_ while Kerry shoots a __ou go, girl!_ smirk right back. I think of CK, how he and I often sat like that. Not because we were seconds from making out or wanted to look like a couple, but just out of a deep, platonic connection. My heart hits a higher notch on the ache-o-meter, my teeth sear into my bottom lip, and then something inside me snaps as cleanly as a crayon.

So is this being in love? I stay with the moment, waiting to find out, the space between us fluctuating with uncertainty. The only thing I am sure of is that each time his lips leave mine they are right back again.