She came up to me and kissed me. I came up to her and kissed her. She tried to kiss me, but I turned away. I threw her down the stairs, grabbed a lamp off the table, and hit her with it until she stopped moving. Then I leaned over and kissed her. She sent me a letter in the mail with the impression of her lipstick on it. Fuck, I was really missing her. She came up to me and slapped me. I begged her to do it again; it was the first time she’d looked at me in weeks. She came up to him and kissed him. I tried not to look annoyed. I came up to her and kissed her, then tried to walk past her to the door. She grabbed me and pulled me down on the couch. I came up to the computer and checked facebook. I think there was some kind of notification from her. I don’t know, we’re not really friends. She forgot to tell me that she kissed him a couple weeks before we started dating. They hung out a lot afterwards and I should have been jealous. Oh wait, I was the one who kissed him. Actually, it was someone else. He did kiss her, but later. I came up to her in the rain and kissed her. I stayed home and played video games. She called me desperate at 2 am and we talked all night. I let the phone ring out. I got some sleep. I stayed up anyway, watching cat videos. I tried to sleep, but the sound of the train kept me up. I didn’t even bother trying to sleep. All I could think about was kissing her. I went and jumped off a bridge, but I didn’t die. She found me lying there because I had picked up after all and I’d told her where I was going and what I was doing and she dragged me out of the river and while she cradled my head in her lap she kissed me because she didn’t know what else to do. And I remember thinking that I’d do it all over again just to get that reaction. Oh wait, it was her that jumped. She came up to me and I kissed her.