One Hour (standard:drama, 436 words)
Author: Freya Griffin	Added: Jan 07 2007	Views/Reads: 3402/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Time is a relativity. That's what they say.

Once a week for sixty minutes, sometimes even less, we will meet, my
lover and I. 

Once a week, we will meet somewhere, and spend an hour together, my
lover and I. 

One hour is not enough to go see a movie. 

Not enough for a drive around the city. 

But just enough to sit together, 

or standing up, 

just the two of us 

in a crowded place... 

my lover and I. 

We met in the zoo once. 

I was wearing a brown skirt and a grey cahsmere sweater. My lover showed
up wearing a crisp white shirt. 

“Sweet,” his compliment made my heart bloomed. 

“Took a long time to match it,” I confessed. 

“Good job.” 

We went around the zoo; holding hands, embracing, talking. 

Just for an hour. Before one hour is up he drove me back home, kissed my
lips and smiled. And I smiled back. Next week we would meet again. It 
was a very pleasant day. 

We once met in a shopping center. 

By the shoes shop, because I needed a new pair of heels. That day my
lover wore a green sweater. I showed up wearing my jeans and my 
favorite blue shirt. 

“Neat!” I whispered in his ear. 

“Thank you,” he chuckled. 

“Smell good, too” 

“Made an effort of showering.” 

We went around the shopping center. Bought corndogs and talked as we
browsed through the shop windows. 

Just for an hour. Before one hour is up he drove me back home. Held me
tight and kissed me passionately before we parted. Five minutes later 
he called, my lover. Next week we should meet again. We had a wonderful 
time today. 

Rain poured down in torents. We were to meet in a museum. But it was
closed on Mondays. I missed my lover. Rain poured down incessantly. My 
lover showed up with a yellow umbrella, broken by the running wind. 

“Sorry I'm late. Traffic was hell.” 

I understood. But we had only 20 minutes left now. Before one hour is up
he drove me back home. We were soaking wet and shivering. Its okay, 
next week we shall meet again. 

“Oh, you're soaking wet!” 

“I forgot my umbrella.” 

“Why didn't you call me? I could've picked you up.” 

“Yeah, didn't think of that. You're usually still at the office at this
hour. Hmm it smells good. “ 

“Banana fritters. I was starving. Made you some too. Would you like some
tea?” 

“Thanks.” 

“Hurry and dry yourself up, before you catch cold.” 

One hour. Just for an hour every week. Because the other 167 belong to
this man. They belong to my husband. 


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