In a different time.

In a different time and place, a parallel universe of infinite possibilities, we are together and content. Age and situation, race and profession, innocuous details are unimportant. In that secret and wonderful place, tucked deep in my imagination, I see us together and I relish it. I deeply etch the picture in my mind. And as crazy as it may seem, I have never been happier as this moment of imagining.

A door slams, a car gasses up, the screeching sound of a plane overhead flying to some unknown destination reminding me that it will hardly ever come true, and I sigh. Reality is so real, it's so depressing, it's so cold and heartless, like a sterile room of a hospital with the strong scent of cleanliness.

Then, I remember how our situation really is, anti-climactic after those thoughts. I am here. You are there. You don't know me and truth be told I don't know you either. We live separate lives and are paths are hardly close to intersecting. You, the victim of my wild story-telling mind. We are so different. You are mature and content. I am here child-like and discontent.

However, it doesn't stop me from fooling myself into the belief that you are perfect. Tall, lanky, geeky, red pants and sockless feet. Perhaps you're reading a book right now. I'd like to believe that you love to read, just as I do. I imagine that is why you wear glasses just like me, ruining it in your childhood sneaking books past bedtime and reading it through the dim light of a flashlight. You flip the pages as carefully as if you're holding some precious little baby, hungrily digesting its words. You laugh out loud. And then, I realize that I have never heard you laugh and I wonder on the things which does make you smile and happy; what your sense of humor must be really like. In that parallel universe, would we laugh at the same jokes? Would you laugh at mine?

~~ Author elusive.