We kissed on a Monday in a night club. We danced to Jay-Z. You took my hand and we walked together to the stop of my night bus. You boarded with me. I counted the splinters in your hand. I had just met you. We got off three stops early to run home hand in hand. You told me about outer space and NASA. You did not try to sleep with me. I loved you for it. You said you could kiss me forever.
You took me to the park the next day after work. You told me that swans don’t bite. We sat outside even though it was November and the lake in Hyde Park started to freeze. My tea got cold and I couldn’t care less. I put your hand on my naked skin just over my heart to keep it warm. You said no one had ever done that for you. We kissed on the elevator. You rode the tube in the wrong direction because my story hadn’t finished yet.
You called me even though I said I was busy. You said you wanted me to meet your friends. You didn’t object when your best friend called me your girlfriend. You ate two burgers by yourself. You remembered how I mispronounced a word when we first met. You said you liked it. I told you about my dreams to change the world. You said we are different. We talked about your friends’ girlfriends after they left. You asked for my shoe size and said you would buy me winter boots. I was tired but I still asked you to come home with me. You told me to keep breathing. You said you would wait for me until the spring until the summer until I am ready. I was ready but I didn’t tell you. Instead I asked about your past. You told me you have feelings for someone else. We said goodnight to each other in eight languages.
By Katharina Neureiter