notes we left on the counter

this is fiction: imagine these notes to have been left just...on the counter.

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i want to be with you until we get old and look the same and can’t hear each other very well.  and i want to be with you for a long time after that too.


k?

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did you ever notice that everything looks nicer before dawn?  it’s cold out there, sure, but i want you to come out there with me, very early.  with a thermos of hot chocolate.  and snow shoes.  hot chocolate: in the thermos already.  snowshoes: i’ve got some for me and i’ve got some for you, no excuses. come with me.  this is how people fall back in love.  i think. we haven’t lost it.  we haven’t lost each other.  i’m still here and i’m pretty sure you are too, even though you’re close to checking out.  give it a go, won’t you?

and i ask you, why not?   just why the fuck not?

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ps: i’ll be fine on my own.  actually, i already think it’s better, and the pillow’s still wet. 

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dear charlotte,

when you came back into my life (after more than 5 years of space that you needed) i was overjoyed.  i went to salt spring the day after you asked me for my phone number and wrote it on a piece of bronze coloured fabric you had in your pocket and i couldn’t stop smiling because i thought this might be an ok world if one’s ‘charlotte’ could return.  oh well, hey?  you win some, you lose some.  i’m ready to lose this.  i hope you are too.  i think you are. 

xo, someone who used to be somebody, if only to you

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….because I’m pretty sure that love means that you want the other to get what they need out of this life, and to be as big as they can be, even when it’s without you.

That’s how I love you, too.  Even if it doesn’t feel like that right now. 

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farewell my heart, my delight.  and please know that you were those things for so long: you were my heart.  you were my delight. 

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you were up late last night.  you’ve been smoking indoors. 

what’s wrong?  next time wake me up.  i wanna smoke indoors, too.  but we need the excuse that is your sorrow. 

let me in! 

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i’ll be kenny, you be dolly.

i’ll be ian, you be silvia.

i’ll be boney, you be M.

i’ll be sonny, you be cher.

but: we’ll never be together, so we’ll never get a divorce.  K?

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if we were parrots, i’d be one that could only say, ‘i love you’, and you’d be one who could only say, ‘uncle?’.

i think there’s a lot more to say.  i need to learn some new words.  so do you.

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hey ball chin,

you missed out on kickball, and i just want to say that that’s ok, because we’re going to play again.  but i also want to let you know, that kickball is the best thing ever.  it’s the most fun thing. 

even better than kissing.  kickball is better than kissing, and it doesn’t get you in trouble.  like, ever. 

stop being so romantic.  come out and PLAY!!!!

xo

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i want to clarify: yesterday when we were talking about taking beer bottle caps off with one’s teeth and shooting them across the room and you said that you used to do that when you were young and i said, like when you were thirty, i meant to make jest of perhaps recency, not your age.

i don’t think it hurt your feelings, and i’m of course sorry if it did, it’s not quite what i meant.