A short story by Jill Zero


You’re the first thing my mind recalls when I wake up and the last thing it pauses when I fade into sleep. I’ve never held you, nor have I truly possessed you in any way. At least not yet.

Right now you’re only a longing I can’t extinguish, existing as an idea. I ache for a day when the emotions unchain and release my love for you into the world, raw and vulnerable and powerful. So much is at stake.

I’m unable to confess how enamored I’ve become because others wouldn’t understand. How could they fathom the concept of pouring my heart and soul and aura into something so fragile, so delicate? Especially since you’re incapable of reciprocating what I feel. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing I could see my name on you, written for all to see, etched into your foundation. I’d press you against my chest and revel in the fact you’re mine, and I’d never take you for granted or cast you aside.

I loved you when you first appeared in my life and every day since. I love you when you tear me up inside, when your conflicts become mine. I love you at the climax and during the climb there. And I love you now, through the makings of a resolution. I’m proud of what’s within you.

Sometimes fear clogs me up and impairs my willingness to share that pride. It’s a selfish last-ditch attempt to confine you, but no one can contain your power. You’ve morphed: you’re no longer my little secret.

What now, then? I must release my grasp. Maybe others will see your potential as I do and snatch you up, or maybe they’ll shrug and miss out on your magic. Some may even utter mean things about you. Nothing could alter my opinion of you, however, because I’ll always love you. For everything you are, everything you represent, and everything you changed.

It’s time to turn the page, together.


Dedicated to my man(uscript).