Etched in time

"You're staring." she said, calmly studying my face.

I just kept staring. She must be crazy. It simply can't be done. Not at this day and age. Or can it? I must be losing my mind.

Let me rewind. I'm one of those nice fellas who repel women. Most of them seem to want something of a bad boy, or someone with rippling muscles. Unfortunately, I can't do bad boy. God knows I've tried. And I can't do muscles either. Something about the way I've been built, I suppose. Women have described me using terms one wouldn't want associated to a lover - squeaky clean and rotund are the ones linger in my mind.

Which is why our story seemed impossible. She wasn't from my world. Hers was a better, more polished one. Why would she even look at me?

But it was she who spoke to me first. I don't know if it was love at first sight, or the unflattering slip to the ground, but I remember thinking how she was shimmering.

As she enquired my state of well-being, I stared. Now that I think of it, I've been staring a lot since she's come into my life. I must look like a complete maniac half the time.

And it began. We enjoyed each other's company. Her sense of humour and wit are astounding. You wouldn't expect it from someone...erm..quite as shapely and beautiful as her. Or from someone who was brought up like her. People disapproved of our friendship. Sharp words were spoken, but unheeded by us.

I've never met someone quite so fierce, outspoken, so devoid of judgement. She was simply there for me. Through thick and then. From soup to dessert.

But I never made a move, for all practical purposes.

She just burst it out one morning. "Well? Are you ever going to try and kiss me?"

And I stared (what did you expect?). With my mouth quite open, I might add. Followed by the quick realization that this was a moment to make better use of my mouth.

And that was that. We met in secret, away from prying eyes, gossiping mouths. Professed undying love for each other, swept away from reality.

What a journey it's been.

Until now.

"You're asking me to run away with you?", I asked incredulously."Where will we go? And how do you think we will provide for ourselves? It's simply not how things work."

She sulked. Called me quite a few names. And gave me an ultimatum. If I came to meet her in the barn that night, we were to elope. Or she would run away by herself. She hated living in this town, full of hatred and division.

Four hours later, I found myself waiting in the barn.

And it was a magical night. The cat played the fiddle. The cow jumped over the moon. The dog laughed. And we ran. We ran, breaking the chains society had shackled itself to. Towards freedom. The rest is history.

This is our story. The story of Dish and Spoon. Etched in time.

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Footnote- For those of you to whom this makes absolutely no sense, it's based on the nursery rhyme, 'hey diddle diddle'.