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Stuff Iapos;ve been working on:


ldquo;So your stories are about love?rdquo; He asked
ldquo;Well, I suppose so. I donrsquo;t know of anything else in this world.rdquo;
He let out a hearty laugh and made a joke about me being a lsquo;21st century Socrates. I smiled too, because he didnrsquo;t know how serious I was.



��� ��� ldquo;In the girlrsquo;s favorite book, the woman holds a big hardcover novel when she goes and sees the man she loves. The woman yearned for ldquo;something higherrdquo; and so did the girl. The girlrsquo;s second favorite book is about a boy named Stephen and the girl was holding her second favorite book. She liked the story about Stephen because Stephen was very similar to the boy she liked. The boy she liked was not named Stephen, but she still liked him. They had not seen each other for a very long time and she wondered if he remembered her. She liked to hold on the book tightly because it was the same as holding onto Stephen. And holding on to Stephen was like holding onto the boy.
��� �The girl was in college and was forced to think all sorts of deep thoughts about important things. She wasnrsquo;t very good at thinking deep thoughts. Instead she liked thinking about the old buildings, she felt that because everything was preserved nothing important was.� She thought the present, and how it was a funny thing because soon enough it would be so far in the background that she wouldnrsquo;t even be able to recognize it anymore. People told her that those were deep thoughts but they seemed like the more natural and obvious things to the girlhellip;rdquo;
��� Thatrsquo;s how the girlrsquo;s story started. She sent it to the magazine that publishes story and the next week the editor called her. The editor told the girl that he liked her story and wanted to publish it. He said he ldquo;Appreciated the meta-commentary through the lense of naivety.rdquo; The girl did not know what the editor meant, she just liked the way the words sounded in her story. She liked the way that the editorrsquo;s words sounded too and told herself to remember to look up ldquo;naivetyrdquo; because the girl thought it was a pretty word and she liked pretty words. The editor told the girl that he was going to publish her story but he wanted her to change the end. The boy and girl fell in love at the end. The girl liked the ending, she liked that it was happy. She thought the point of stories was so they had happy endings. But she agreed to change the ending because the editor knew more about stories then she did.
��� But the girl kept the first version, the version that had the happy ending. One day she went and saw the boy she liked and she showed him her story. The boy thought the story was nice but he had many questions about it. He asked if she was supposed to be the girl. He asked who the boy was supposed to be. The boy looked at the girl while he asked her these questions. The girl got embarrassed when the boy looked at her because she was afraid hersquo;d be able to tell how much she liked him. Instead she looked down at the boyrsquo;s blue socks and her own lavender socks and thought about how much she liked the color combination so she wouldnrsquo;t think about the boy. She thought about socks quite a lot because she couldnrsquo;t think about the boy when she was thinking about socks.
��� Soon the boy stopped asking the questions and they decided to go for a walk. It was cold outside, as it sometimes is and so the boy covered his ears with his hat. His ears were covered to block out the cold air but they also blocked out sound. Because the boyrsquo;s ears were covered he didnrsquo;t hear the girl when she quietly told him ldquo;Yoursquo;re the boy.rdquo; The girl was looking at the boy while she said this and the boy was looking up thinking about the color combination of the blue and grey in the sky.


��� We sat on the beach and smoked. We smoked and counted the stars we could see. We covered our feet with sand, afraid wersquo;d have to leave. I loved her.
Love is a concept so misinterpreted. Love means you donrsquo;t want someone to leave your life anytime soon. All the kisses in the rain, diamond rings and weekends away mean the same thing. ldquo;Stay.rdquo;
If you are lucky yoursquo;ll hold them as you fall asleep and theyrsquo;ll still be there in the morning. If yoursquo;re lucky you wonrsquo;t lose them in a city street on a fall day.
Now Irsquo;m here, I donrsquo;t know where she is. But my legs are cold here on the floor and Irsquo;m surrounded by ashtrays that overflow with my worries. Now I cannot see the stars and she did not stay.


ldquo;So this is it?rdquo; He asked while unpacking dishes, ldquo;We stay together and thatrsquo;s the end of it?rdquo;
ldquo;I think the phrase yoursquo;re looking forrdquo; he replied, ldquo;Is lsquo;happily ever after.rsquo;
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