nice dream

We were walking along through the park at night--it was a lovely out and we'd been friends long enough that it seemed like it'd be nice. She was talking about a mutual friend of ours and something they'd done this weekend while I was in Portland. Then she stopped and we fell silent and by some sort of mutual agreement slowed to a halt in the middle of the path.

Then there was a moment--that brief tension and uncertainty. Our eyes met for a moment before she, smiling suddenly, pushed me into the grass and laughed. I lay there for a moment before she helped me back up. We didn't say anything for the rest of the walk, just smiled secretly and held hands. It was a moment of perfect clarity. No games, no power politics, no lying, no questions, no dancing around anything. We both understood. It was perfectly straightforward and perfectly honest.

We could have ruined it with words, of course. But words, especially in the hands of a writer, are a terrible way to start something off.