Three Years

Three years ago today I met M. in the train station in York.
It was raining.
We bought our tickets, and sat on the train to Leeds.
‘Are you okay,’ he said, ‘you’re very quiet.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I’m fine.’
We sat on the train some more.

In Leeds we watched the rain falling in the river.
We ate tiramisu.
We wandered the shopping arcades, their ceilings ornately decorated with scrolls and oranges.
We drank mango lassi and ate vegetable curry, and talked, hesitantly, about people we both knew.

In the theatre, that evening, the seats were narrow. I could feel his leg next to mine. I sat very still. I watched his hand in his lap. On the stage, the actors cavorted to Dylan Thomas’s Under Milk Wood. The words surged and tumbled. It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black… And somewhere, between two lines, he lent towards me and whispered ‘come a bit closer’. And I did.

We held hands all the way back to York. I still have the ticket.

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7 thoughts on “Three Years

  1. That was so nice it nearly made me cry. You are so sweet. I fell in love once, too. I remember the very minute.

    Sometimes I feel like an intruder in here, which compels me to comment and alert you to my presence, otherwise I feel like a big smelly fish dripping seawater all over the carpet, in this your boudoir of love.

    So thanks for having me.

  2. Thanks all!

    I wouldn’t call it a boudoir of love – I just get a bit soppy sometimes. Fish are always welcome. I used to dream about my goldfish escaping his tank and flying all around the room. I would run after him, holding up the aquarium, fearing he would drown.

  3. Pingback: Sunday, June 19 « northern lights

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