The Little Bow & Arrow

The bow and quiver was gone. There was one naked arrow left, and there was a note spiked on it, on pink paper of some kind. It said,

My mistake, but what's done is done, and it's not the first mistake I've ever made. I'm leaving you one arrow. Do the right thing. [signed] C.

So that's where I'm at now. Gina's still asleep, and I'm lying with my arm around her, the arrow in my hand. It's pink, about a foot long, thin, and terribly sharp. This one hasn't evaporated.

I'd do it myself, but I know she has to be the one, just like I was the one who did it to her. If I did it to myself, there's no telling what would happen. Maybe I'd see a picture in a magazine, or maybe I'd spend the rest of my life masturbating.

I've given it a lot of thought: free will, true love, infatuation, lust, love at first sight: all that stuff. But what it seems to come down to is this: I want to feel about her like she felt about me. In this world of throw-away sex and overnight affairs, I want to know that kind of passion for someone. I want to be crazy in love like that. So when she wakes up, I'm going to make her do it.

Take that arrow and drive it right into my heart.

Everyone should be so lucky.