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Let Us Fall

By Tiffanie Harvey

By Tiffanie HarveyPublished 2 years ago 4 min read
Let Us Fall
Photo by Brooke Cagle on Unsplash

In the deepest throes of the night, filtered beneath layers of synthetics, we dream.

Black and white fields, dusted in shadows and silhouettes. Unaware, we stand, hand in our pockets, a wheat germ tucked between the creases of our teeth, hats tipped just shy of straight. We observe, crouch, speculate, question. We know something is missing, out of place, forgotten. Hijacked? Our badges flash under rays of light, the words “world’s best” permanent and unwavering.

You rise and the world caves. The room, an oval with plush pillows resting eloquently on the dual sofas and cushioned chairs. The leather wheezes as you push your seat out and you stand, determined in your decision. What was it you declared? War? Peace? Profound love? The hitch in your voice asserts your authority. The rest leave you to your woes and we are left behind. Two opposites hardly attract attention beyond our own. But the rumbles flutter between heart and stomach as we stare at each other in a game of truth and dare. You fall back into your chair.

Until you are falling. Falling. Down, down, down until you’re swimming. Dropping into synchronicity, the water moves with you, propelling you further. The water splitting as your butterfly strokes break, enters, and pulls it back behind you. All the while, you are fracturing the surface and mending the curves. I watch from the sidelines as you crash into the wall and gasp for air. Your goggles pulled tightly, the droplets resting in your victory. The timer ceased fire; the thrills of your record. A triumphant fist pump. And still, my heart swims with you. Stroke after stroke without hesitancy.

Clunk. I wake to rub my eyes. Longing to return to the simplicity of dreaming. Each romance clinging to my heart as I sit in the nostalgia of past loves. But reality pulls me awake where I live without loneliness and with all the possibilities, success, and happiness. The blissful remembrance of that guy. My guy. My man. Proud in his passions. Passion filling his mind and me his heart.

I turn, my spouse sleeping still next to me, the dog snoring at our feet. The baby mumbles through the monitor. Through the blinds I see trees blushing with red tips. Leaves, suspended in air, frozen in a moment of time. I think.

Curling into you, I wrap myself in the warmth where dream meets reality and recall the moment you stole my heart. So dashing in your fitted shirt and dusted pants. A picture of my childhood hopes with a smile that reached your gentle eyes even as all the women flocked to you like sheep drawn to a herder. Polite and patient, you listened, nodded, and laughed as they brushed their hair in a feminine effort to gain a glance.

Easy. It was so easy for you to blend in. Confident and swooning. But your attention was fleeting. Easily pulled across the room until they found me.

Caught between embarrassment and romantic hopelessness, I allowed my cheeks to blossom. Tulip pink and warm. I could not stop my heart from reaching its maximum drum capacity. Even I was afraid you’d hear it over the hip music and teeming crowd.

I did not know a heart could actually stop with a simple look. That feeling you have when you feel as if you’ve fallen a thousand stories but also feel suspended in a motionless movie. That feeling of being both afraid and on air. A juxtaposition of statements could do it no justice. But the contracting of both heart and lungs when you stole my breath from across the room.

Somewhere between losing all my capacity to think and growing a new brain cell, you escaped your admirers. I tugged my sweater, tossed my eyes everywhere, anywhere but on you with the fleeting hope that you did not notice my frazzled nerves.

One word. One greeting and grazing of fingers in a handshake. Who knew a voice could be enchanting. Like rustic silk drawing me into smooth conversations where history reigned, passion was prominent, and I was taken.

It was effortless. Sinking into your gaze, memorizing the dimples etched into your cheeks. Two lines framing your lips. Thin and bold with a tongue that danced over every word. Two smokey greys captured me. So much so that I dreaded the moment that night would end and wondered when I would see you again.

When I was little, I once thought I’d have to fight the fall so as not to fall too hard. But falling for you was the softest landing ever imagined. Snuggling closer, I pressed my face into the scent that is you and let myself fall completely again.

Short Story

About the Creator

Tiffanie Harvey

From crafting second-world fantasies to scheming crime novels to novice poetry; magic, mystery, music. I've dreamed of it all.

Now all I want to do is write it.

My IG:

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