Monday, August 27, 2012 x 4:25 AM
"I hate your face. I really, really hate it."
He looked at her, and she at him. She was wearing a white chiffon dress--similar to the ones goddesses would wear, but of knee-length. She sat beside him on a bench, by the cliff, facing the sea.
"And why is that?"
"Well. . . .it's beautiful, your face. And you're a guy. How is it even possible for a guy to be prettier than a girl?"
He laughed. He thought it was ridiculous, for males to be prettier than females. Heck, it was ridiculous for males to be even called
'pretty'.
"Do you really want to know how it's possible?"
She nodded.
"I think it's possible because," he paused, and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, "you just can't realize that you," he paused again, and this time brushed his lips against hers, "are the most beautiful being in this world. Among women or
men."
She took his face in her hands. She kissed his nose, then his left cheek, then his right cheek, then his chin, then his forehead. "I am so in love with you, you know that?"
"I do. I was the luckiest man when you first said it, and the happiest whenever you would say it thereafter."
Labels: bored, dialogue, love, short story
