Fiction

He was lying on a grassy hill in the park, gazing into the sky that first day I saw him. I drempt of lying by his side, looking for the magic that captivated him; wanting achingly to see what he saw. Wanting it to take me away, I fell in love.

A few days later, at a local bar, I all but ran him over. Though he was the one to apologize, asking if I was all right. "Of course. I'm fine," I squeaked as a thought crossed my mind that he was following me, leaving pebbles of doubt behind, but not, in itself fully forming. "Did I think it was love at first sight that day?" I asked myself, shaking my head with an emphatic "No, couldn't be." 

Weeks passed before I saw him again. I was at a local record store one Saturday afternoon, lazily thumbing through the faded jackets.  "Don't I know you from somewhere?" I heard someone ask, and when no reply came in answer, I looked up to find him staring inquisitively at me. 

Here was this man, this man that I had loved. This man who had followed me. Here he was now, acting as if we were strangers. "No, I don't believe you do," I stated, immediately followed with my exit.

I went home and put on an old jazz record, opened the windows to the cool fall air, and started jotting down love poems. His image, his voice, clung to me. I could no more rid myself of him than I could rid myself of my skin. I began to think that we had actually lain together on that grassy hill in the park. That magic had found and followed us. 

This is when the headaches started. My head began to throb, but I dutifully ignored it, knowing it would go away soon enough. When the phone rang, in what seemed like the space of a few seconds from the onset of the headache, I noted with relief that the headache had disappeared.

"You ready? I'm on my way over."  It was Alex, an old friend that I was going out to dinner with that evening.

Glancing at the clock, which registered nearly two hours past the time I felt it should have been, I answered, "Sure. Give me 20 minutes. Running a little late." A dizziness gripped me as I hung up the phone. It lasted for only a few seconds, but I was worried I might be coming down with a fever. Somehow, I had lost two hours.

I looked around me and all was as it should have been. I finally decided that the headache had knocked me unconscious. It was the only explanation that could fit into my view of reality. Still, it was worrisome. People just don't pass out from headaches. Not that I had ever heard of.

Deciding the best course of action was to go on about my evening as planned, I changed clothes and freshened up while I waited for Alex.