There are a few things I could wish for right now;
that EMS drivers not use their brain rupturing sirens unless on an actual emergency call,
that whomever is in possession of the Cure for Cancer (I know it’s out there somewhere), somehow regains their humanity and releases it to the world,
World Peace, of course,
and, that in my next life I come back as a complicated, edgy female character in one of Walter Mosley’s ‘Easy Rawlins’ mystery novels.
Yeeeah, that’ll be real cool.
(Excerpt from ‘Cinnamon Kiss’ by Walter Mosley)
“But you never said you loved him,” I said.
“Love is an old-fashioned concept,” she replied in university-ese. “The human race developed love to make families cohesive. It’s just a tool you put back in the closet when you’re done with it.”
“And then you take it out again when someone strikes your fancy?”
We made love again.
“Love is like a man’s thing,” she told me. “It gets all hot and bothered for a while there, but then after it’s over it goes to sleep.”
“Not me, ” I said. “Not tonight.”
She smiled and the sun came up.
I forced myself to get dressed and ready to go.
“Do you have to leave?” she asked me.
“Do you love me?” I asked.
It’s a question I had never asked a woman before that day. I had no idea that the words were in my chest, my heart. But that was the reply to her question. If she had said yes I would have taken a different path, I’m sure. Maybe I would have taken her with me or maybe I would have cut my losses and run. Maybe we would have flown together on the bearer bonds to Switzerland, where I would have taken a flat above Bonnie and Joguye.
“Sure I do,” she said with a one-shoulder shrug. She might as well have winked.
I breathed a deep sigh of relief and went out the door.