When we were eight, I pulled your hair.
I rotated in your orbit, one satellite among all the others. I bore their reflected brilliance until, at last, I drifted away, caught in the gravity of time. Entropy at work, or inevitability.
But the stars were so bright, the heavens clear on the night you found me. I let you weep your loss on my shoulder. I let you stroke my hair.
Ah, love, need I say it? You, only you, always you.
This post was written in response to the 33rd Trifecta Writing Challenge prompt:
Write a 33-333 word response to the following quote: “What I tell you three times is true.” by Lewis Carroll. You do not have to use the actual quote in your response, but you may if you wish.
I am lying in bed next to the one who inspired the last line, though the details were improvised. I had grand plans of completing the full trifecta of challenges, but alas, time got away from me. I have no photo, and barely a title, but I couldn’t pass up the 33rd prompt.