She

I don't right remember where I met her first. I think it was at the pool hall where I go to practise billiards. She was in the corner and seemed to be playing by herself. But oh of course she was with somebody! A gorgeous thing like her never roams the streets free. I don't think men ALLOW a gorgeous thing like her to roam the streets free. Not in this country.

I also don't quite remember how I got to know her better. I think I just walked up and introduced myself to her one day. We became friends. At first.

She has mixed ancestry, like most things American. All her parents and grandparents originally came from different parts of Europe, like most things American. And did I mention that she is gorgeous? Well she is. Head-turning, heart-aching, drop-dead gorgeous. Big hazel eyes; golden hair. Absolutely stunning.

We are very close now. It certainly seems that way unless I am reading all the signs wrong. We have eaten together a few times and I have seen past the looks. I now know that she has a golden nature to go along with that golden hair. A gentler soul I have not seen.

She is younger than me though. Almost embarassingly younger. I always knew that but I didn't know exactly how old she was until recently. It was of course impossible to get her to tell me, so I asked someone else. And just as I suspected, the difference is big. I mean, I'm not some creepy old guy, but by god, she is young. But you know what...it doesn't seem to bother her, so why should I mention it? She doesn't even seem to be aware of the difference, so why should I be?

We are very close now. There is just something about the way she looks at me with those big melting eyes that makes me just want to reach out and touch her. Everytime. And I do. I run my fingers through her hair when we think that no one is looking and that always makes her snuggle a little closer to me. The other day, she rubbed her cute nose against my face, shyly but playfully. A nose-kiss, if you will. And in front of everybody. Now if that isn't an open declaration of love and bonding, then I don't know what is. I hope she does that again soon.

We are very happy when we are with each other. But...there is just one thing that bugs me about all this. See, I don't think I quite love her. I mean, it's close, but it's not love. I just know it. Oh, I know that *she* is in love. Without a doubt. I see that in her eyes everytime she looks at me. But I can't return the favour completely.

Why? What is wrong with me? Makes me question myself sometimes. Why can't I love that bitch? The bitch loves me, practically dotes on me; so why can't I? Why can't I give my heart, completely and unconditionally, to that bitch.

Why? Why? Oh why?

Oh, and for those who like to keep track of these things, I think that she is part golden retriever and part collie. At least according to the owner.

And no, you cannot have the last ten minutes of your life back.