How you and I came to be was just like a movie. At least, that was how you used to always tell me it felt like.  It was how you would tell people time and time again.

It was exactly like an old motion picture.

Man steps in from the door and saw this woman sitting at the far end of the room, with a drink in hand, listening to the people which surrounds her.

I can still remember the way you look, the way that captivating smile would creep on your face as you sink into a moment of recall. You would close your eyes for a second and lightly shake your head as you tell me, as you tell people, how everything went into slow motion as you walked in your mother’s garage and saw me there. As if everything went blurred except for me, that’s exactly how you told it.

And even when we were in bed, about to succumb into a deep slumber, you’d utter, half-asleep, for me to tell you about the moment you saw me on that garage with a glass of brandy in hand. How everything felt perfect and how you’ve never felt that way before. How much of a movie it felt like more than the sweet reality it was.

I wonder now if you’ve had the same movie-like girl meets boy kind of love story with her. I wonder if the same beautiful smile would creep in your face as you tell your brand new story, I wonder if your eyes still glimmer the way they do when you told the world of ours. I wonder if at night, you whisper to her ear, half asleep, to tell you the story of how you met.

God, I wish it wasn’t as movie-like, I wish you’d smile but not the same way as you would when you told everyone about ours.

You were the leading man to the movie I never thought I’d ever be a part of and even if the credits have rolled after our tragic love story I still wish that no matter who you meet, who you’re with and no matter how you meet someone, it would never be the same way as when the moment your eyes met mine in a crowded garage when everything but me blurred out.


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