Tuesday, October 8, 2013

To Do The Things

            Larry was cold. The crisp fall morning had crept in through his open bedroom window. He shivered and pulled his bed clothes up tighter around his shoulders. It was still dark. The sun had yet to rise and warm the concrete of the world. Larry tried to return to his dream about the girl he loved. She was cold too.

             She was cold to his affections and wishes for love. Larry burrowed his head further into his pillow. He was trying to shake the terrible thoughts of her in the arms of another man. It made him sad to think about her affections being lavished at the footsteps of some other jerk. He wanted to act to prevent such a terrible atrocity. He wanted to tell her all about his desires, his wants, his willing devotion to everything she was and all that she could be. He didn’t though.

            Larry muttered to himself about his inability to tell her how much he wanted to adore her and give her everything of himself. He was shy. He was more than shy. He was afraid. He was afraid that if he told her about his feelings, she would spurn him. He didn’t want to lose the way she looked at him in her unknowing of his feelings. Her eyes were bright, laughing, cheery, engaged with the light of capable mirth.

             He opened his eyes and looked toward his open bedroom window. A chilly morning breeze was blowing the drapes full with specter’s of last night’s poor choices. Larry mourned his affability.  He wasn’t bold enough. He wasn’t as brave as the character of himself that he imagined he was. He imagined he was tough, like an outlaw, Jesse James or Tony Soprano. He wasn’t though. He was annoying; a burden on others and a wreck of his spoiled potential. He blinked hard to try and re-focus his blurry, sleep filled eyes.

             He rolled over and pulled the covers up tighter again. He closed his eyes and wished he could tell her that he thought he was in love with her and he was tired of the torture his soul constantly endured. He wanted her embrace. He wished that his professions of love would be reciprocated. He just feared that they would not be. He had no guts.  Larry chided himself for being weak. Life was too short to waste on inaction and waffling.

             The wind blew the drapes out, billowing them out toward the bed. Larry decided he’d have to say something to her. His alarm clock started beeping and Larry tossed the covers off and stepped out of bed. He shut off his alarm and sighed.

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