Follow the Fortune Cookie

Day Seventeen: Counting Days

"30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS"  by: 30DBC Creator/Founder
The Prompt: If you have five (5) days left to spend together with your love one how would you spend those days?
The Music: "Moving Pictures Silent Films" - Great Lake Swimmers

There are a few ways you can take this prompt. I'm going with the idea that I get five days left with my guy. No death involved today. It's too snowy and silent out tonight. Just five days before there are only memories left. Using some creative liberties here, I'm going to write this as if I was just writing to him. A letter of sorts.*

* = Forgive any sappiness. It's going to happen, and I have at this point, properly warned you.

Day One.

I woke you up this morning by poking your nose. You didn't seem happy with me, especially when I laughed in your face. Don't be surprised if I run away after that. You have that expression on your face like when you're about to tickle. I hate that. No, this is not a time for you to be chasing me. Really. This is vastly uncouth. Stop it. No, not my feet, damn it!

That's it! I'm not responsible for what happens next.

I stole your shirt again while you were resting with a pack of frozen pea. They're roomier than mine, and you seemed to be busy with icing. In my defense, I did warn you. When you're not looking, I bring the collar to my nose and breathe in your scent. Depending on what music is playing in the background when they shoot this into a movie, I could come off as sweet or very creepy. Try to make sure this moment has the right overtones.

To make it up to you, I sit next to you on the couch and let you rest your head in my lap. It's getting cold outside. There might be snow soon. I know how much you hate the snow. You stare at the window and frown up at the sky like your stern expression will tell the gods there will be no snow today. I'm not sure that's how it works, but I smile at you like it does.

You'll cook stew tonight to further you cause. It'll be the hearty kind that I eat too much of and moan about when my stomach is too full. I'll blame you. It is your fault. You'll revel in this so much that I'll try to hit you with a pillow but miss as my aim has gone to my stomach.

You'll take the blame though you don't believe it. We'll have to snuggle (yes, I used the word snuggle) as your punishment. Pick a movie. Pick a song. It's your turn and we have the night.

Day Two.

I'll put on a dress. You know how much I hate them, but I know how much me wearing one makes you smile. If I have to put the dress on, you have to dance with me. Nothing truly fancy - just twirl us in circles. I'll rest my head as close to your shoulder as I can. *insert joke about my height here* There can't be too much of the sappy stuff. It'll make me itch. So you'll have to make fun of something, and I'll sock you in the arm to lighten the tension.

There is no sleep tonight, not that we actually sleep. I'll make you play Scrabble with me so I can prove my superiority in spelling. You'll frown at me when you think I'm making up the words, then frown even more when you realize it's a real word and I've been wasting time on the internet again.

When the games grow old, and I just want to hold your hand, we'll put some "Torchwood" or "X-Files" - the shows that highlight our romance. Nothing like aliens to get us in the mood. You can pinch me now. It's okay. I'm being a fool, and I know it, but I don't want to say goodbye yet.

Day Three.

The rain is falling again. The sounds fill the room as the drops hit the pavement. I'm there in the window when you come up behind me and wrap me in your arms. It's a beautiful moment until you decide you have to rest your chin on the top of my head. I throw an elbow that you playfully dodge. Disgruntled, I proclaim I'll be making cookies and that you can't have anything. What a shame. Yet when your smile slides into a pout, I cannot help but feel the winner. The pout is too cute for words. If you help with the batter, maybe I'll give you some cookies. Maybe.

The day will dissolve into too many cookies and horrible television. At the last minute I'll pull a book from my ever-evolving stacks and read to you, my head resting on your knee. I'll do all the voices, which will be entirely inappropriate, but will make you laugh all the same. Your laugh - so unguarded, so mirthful - is my ultimate reward. We'll take turn reading until the sky is light again. Time is ours now.

Day Four.

Peach pancakes for breakfast this morning. The only way I'll be able to get you to sleep is to put something in your coffee the night before. You'll wake up groggy and give me the squirrel eye, but when I place a large plate on pancakes and peaches in front of you, you'll melt and forget the deception from the night before. Almost, anyway.

We'll go to the market today. Because we own time now, the rain will stop long enough for us to venture forth into the world of vendors. We'll walk up and down the aisles, soaking in the colors of fruit, vegetables, and large bottles of gourmet olive oil we really don't need. I'll be picking up random numbers of edibles that I like the look of but don't know how to cook. Dinner will be adventurous, possibly poisonous, and all the better that we make it together.

Note: If there's a sauce, I'll stain your shirt with it. It's not intentional (probably). It's just how I roll. Lack of coordination makes everything just that little more special. Don't you think?

I'll make another pot of coffee at two o'clock. You'll have fallen asleep at the table by the time I get back with two more cups. I know it's not intentional. You fall out under the most stern resistance. Usually mid-sentence. It is so fun to watch. For a minute I'll stare, wishing I has seen the sleep battle one more time. The coffee will be abandoned in the kitchen. I'll curl up next you at the table, hand in your shirt pocket, one foot tucked next to yours.

Day Five.

I'd make you breakfast again. For no particular reason other than I can. It'll be fancy like one of those postcards they have of Paris in the summertime. I'll sit with a strong cup of tea and watch you eat. Payback for all those times you'd watch me squirm while shoving a fork in my mouth. In movies, there is usually some poignant soft song playing in the background. I'm thinking for us, maybe some Neil Diamond to watch your eyes twitch in annoyance one more time. Maybe some Hendrix or Zeppelin to make your head bob while eating an expertly burnt piece of toast with homemade jam.

You hate the cold but you'll go out in the snow with me because I asked. It'll be peaceful at first, a nice walk while holding mittens. Then you shove some snow down my shirt and I'll get you back with a snowball in the face. Things will disintegrate from there. A good and true battle with laughs, threats, and hiccups we'll collapse in the snow - inadvertent snow angels. I'll make you lay there with me so I can remember your face just like it is at that moment. My mittens will be gone and my hands will be freezing when I touch your face, but you'll let me because you let me get away with most things.

I will remember you with snowflakes on your lashes and the red mark on your dark skin from the snowball I planted on your face. Smile for me once more so I can remember. I won't tell you I love you. You already know that. To say it again would be to state the obvious. How normal of us. We've never been normal, have we? Why be normal when we have so much fun being ourselves? That is what I want you to remember. How odd we were, and how happy that made us.

Remember, dear dork boy, when you stole my heart and promised to never give it back?