She was the type of person who couldn’t keep her thoughts inside, often allowing them to spill out of her lips and break a perfect silence. She did not believe in perfect silences and wasn’t a fan of quiet - unless she was reading. She’d make an entire ordeal out of anything at all, particularly reading books. First, she’d put on a pair of cotton pajamas and her terrycloth robe. Then, she’d make a production of settling into the worn armchair. Finally, she would overturn pages until her eyes grew tired and her head ached from thinking too much.
“I cannot put this book down! It’s our story, Warren, except only if we were living in 1927. This book was written for me to read and it was written about people just like us,” she rambled, while he rolled his eyes.
“I don’t like when you compare me to your book people. You’re going to get all caught up in whatever guy that books about. All you’ll think about is how he’s so much better than me.”
She laughed inside her head knowing all the while that Warren was a musician and like most musicians, he despised comparisons.
“Oh, get outta’ here! I’m just saying that this book is about people like us, that’s all. The main girl talks a lot just like me. She’s nineteen like me too, and she’s in love with a boy your age. They’re married.”
He wondered what thoughts ran through her head when she read her stories. Sometimes he grew jealous of her reading. Although she was talkative and fidgety, he’d gotten used to broken silences. He also liked the way she laughed out loud at the T.V. She laughed out loud while reading too, but he never knew what was funny. Besides, the arm chair was situated underneath a slender lamp all the way across the room. He’d never admit it, but he liked the way she always sat on the center couch cushion. She took up all the room, but he liked to have her at his side. This never happened once she started reading.
“I have a question. It’s going to be one of those questions, but I really want to know your answer!”
She spoke in a dramatic tone because she knew he’d initially say no.
“No.”
“Oh, please! Just one little question. All I want to know is your answer.”
She swallowed hard and began to speak quickly, “If we were a couple living in 1927, and we were in love just like we are now - except we couldn’t have sex before marriage because that wasn’t allowed - would you be married to me? Now, at this age?”
“That is a stupid question,” he began in an aggravated tone, “but yes. We probably would be married.” She sprung from her chair, jumped into his lap and placed her head on his chest
“Oh, I knew you’d say that answer! I just wanted to hear you say it, that’s all.”
He kissed her on the top of the head with a secret grin. She was always asking questions and analyzing his answers.
“All right, all right. We showed each other we loved each other long enough,” he mumbled after a few minutes. She scooted out of his lap and onto the center couch cushion.
“Damnit! Why do you always do that? You take up the whole couch every time you sit down and I’m left with no room. You should just go back over there and read your book.”
She laughed inside her head because she knew that he wanted nothing more than for her to stay seated at his side. She was the type of person who couldn’t keep her thoughts inside so she sat next to him and thought about how tomorrow she’d write them into a story.
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