The Persistence of Memory

A race car in a videogame. The controller in your hands. You standing a little to the side, staring intently at the screen. Me right in front of it, staring at the car as it overlaps the others, swerves around corners and crosses the finish line. Though I wanted to be staring at you, I settle for the sliver of you I get from the corner of my eye. 

Don't ask me about anything else, like if anyone looked askance at us, two girls standing in the middle of a shop, playing a videogame designed for boys, and wondering if it was a date or just an outing. And don't ask if I remember what we talked about in those few minutes, or even the other hours we spent in each other's company, because the few days that have passed since then have robbed me of the pleasures of remembering. But I remember that moment so clearly; two girls in a busy store, one of whom directed a fast car on a screen while the other watched. And I would have been content to watch forever. In that moment, unexpected and unguarded, I fell in love with you more than I expected I could. It was a perfect moment in a perfect day. While everything else melts into Time, I will forever have that moment of you. And that is everything.