#echoeds

Love was New Years’ Eve.. years ago.

It was the way she looked at him as the moonlight made her face aglow. It was the memory of snow that fell; the cobblestone road that led to a courthouse. Love was made up of slurring vows, and fits of laughter; a smile he could never forget when she said, “I do.” And he said, “I do, too.”

And so love became the morning after.

It was when he brushed stray locks from her temples, and kissed her forehead as she slept. “I guess we’re married now. Do you want to stay married now?” “I do,” he voiced from his pillow, because when he looked at her, he saw someone he felt as though he’d known forever. Love was feeling as though he’d known her forever.

And so love became a life.

It was dancing in the produce aisle, and belting out songs he didn’t know with the window down to make her grin. It was causing the blush on her cheeks, and the memory of making a home together; it was picking out curtains together. “But do you like them?” “I do.” Because love was being with her, and enjoying every moment of their together. Together.

Even when they weren’t together.

It was rolling over and seeing she wasn’t there, feeling the ache of her gone. It was missing someone reminding him of his mother’s birthday, asking him when he’d be home, and the way she’d wrinkle her nose; it was the way he missed even her faraway gaze. Love was missing her when she was beside him. “Do you want to leave?” “I do.”

And so love was letting her go.

Because no matter how much he missed her, how much he cherished all the infinite timelines where they were and are together.. all the forks in the river.. it’d never be fair if he didn’t let her go. “Did she love me, too?”

. . .

“I do,” Emerson finally muttered, casting his head down, and brushing past Cassia’s shoulder to leave the helm. He couldn’t meet her gaze, blatantly angry. It felt familiar.

Wrong of him.

Skeptically, Cassia affirmed, “You do.”

“Yeah, I do.”

Love was her.

Love was a girl from years ago.