As I was sinking, I thought about her.
I thought about how that single dimple pierced on her left cheek would almost glow along with her smile. About how she laughed, beautifully and free, and didn’t care how uncute everyone else thought it was. About how well-spoken she was and how she’d deny it whenever I teased her about it.
We had known each other for as long as I can remember. We both always had this hunch that we’d end up together, and stay together forever.
It was a naked type of relationship.
By naked, I mean we hid none of our facets from each other. She was entirely herself around me, and I around her.
There was nothing to hide.
I’d never seen her bare thighs, and I often only imagined her breasts and daydreamed about touching her nipples.
Cold and soft.
But the most naked I’d ever seen her was mentally and emotionally.
We never did become a couple, though. But we gripped tightly onto a piece of each other. Forever and always.
We didn’t rush anything. There was nothing to chase; nothing to prove. Or to question. We simply let time carry us smoothly.
Like a fluffy cloud in the delicately blue sky.
We used to float. Until things changed.
Then I started sinking
I just kept sinking.