February Date

It was a beautiful sunny yet chilly February afternoon when we decided it was time. We shivered under our coats despite the warmth we felt on our faces, thanks to the rays of sunshine that gently danced through the atmosphere, traveling thousands of miles in space to illuminate our earth. We walked and walked and walked; our feet, the perfect little soldiers that obeyed the orders to move. Left right left they went, but not without occasionally stopping so that our curious hands and eyes could explore the beauty of the place. We had decided to go to the 14th street farmer’s market. Union Square had become our spot. We passed by numerous interesting little tables that sold everything from lavender products to handcrafted alcohol, including bottles and glasses of Merlot, to potted plants. I was a fan of the lavender table and always made him stop there. The lady already knew my face.

“Hello,” she greeted me with a smile. “Today, we have new lavender satchels. I know you got a few of those last time.”

The lavender smelled sweet and of home. It was comforting really, the combination of colors and smells seemed to attract me like a moth to a flame.

The hunger inducing aroma of the freshly baked bread from the baker’s table mingled with the sun’s warmth and the vibrant colors of the plants and flowers everywhere.

After walking through the entirety of the farmer’s markets, we decided to hit up the Barnes and Nobles nearby. We needed to shield ourselves from the chilly wind that seemed to suddenly catch up with us once we were outside of the sun’s protective warmth.

We walked and walked and walked some more. This time, we were welcomed by smiling faces and colorful book covers. The reds, blues, and purples seem to seamlessly blend together in what was an endless wall filled with all sorts of books. We looked at books, picking the ones we thought were fun to share with one another.

“Look at the ridiculous title of this book” we would laugh together.

“Ugh, I hate the self-help section,” I would complain, “everyone thinks they have to be edgy and say “fuck” to sell books.”

“Yeah,” he would agree. “It comes off as ingenuine.”

As we passed through the bookstore, we shared with each other random facts about our interests.

“Did you know that Gabriel Garcia Marquez won the Nobel Prize on Literature for his novel One Hundred Years of Solitude.” was said in the fiction sections.

“Did you know that socks were one of the most important items for soldiers during the civil war,” was said in the U. S. history section.

We moved to the empty cafe where we sat down and had our drinks of choice; a black coffee and an iced peach green tea lemonade. Our feet begged for mercy after we walked what felt for miles, and we complied; this time, it was we who obeyed our aching feet.

We stared at each other for a few heartbeats. His gaze never left my eyes. Unlike him, I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander through his beautiful face. His full lips. His long eyelashes. His messy brown hair. And down again to his lips.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he said casually after sipping his coffee. His newly purchased civil war book sat at the top of the table while my colorful copy of Love in the Time of Cholera was gently placed on my lap.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” I said, a smile lighting up my face.