i never write prose anymore

based on actual events:


The lights in the theater dimmed as the opening credits began to roll. She leaned over and snaked her arm between mine and the arm rest. She nuzzled into me and let her head rest on me. I wondered if she was going to fall asleep before we met the leading man’s goofy best-friend or we found out the delightful character flaws of the leading lady. She had a long day at work and assisted in two surgeries - I wouldn’t have been surprised if she dozed off before they showed a make-out montage.


I exhaled slow and tried to recall the last time I held anyone’s hand in a movie theater. Two years? Maybe three?


She embraced my arm tight as she readjusted herself. I could tell she was about to whisper something in my ear. Her breath is warm and soothing on my neck and I can feel her lips just millimeters from my ear.

“Your shoulder is boney.”

"What?"