By: Deliverance

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By: Christopher D. Andrews
 
For seven years my hands have worked without falter
But on this day my hands trembled with the rush of an elementary love
The words I scribe look savage and untamed
The barely legible text reads:
                           Yes or No            
                Will you be my girlfriend?
 
No barricades through my skull and begins to prod my every nerve
My heart’s tempo begins to falter; the god made metronome misses a beat
The word continues to ravage my mind
My mind roams as I blankly stare into the words:
                           Yes or No
                Will you be my girlfriend?
 
If she chooses the third of the trinity
Come, Pestilence
Come, War
Come, Famine
Come, Death
Come, Cries of Martyrs
Come, Devastation
 
I set my trepidation aside and insert two boxes on the page
The first floats peacefully above Yes
The other menacingly sits above No
I crease the paper and write:
              To: Jude
                              From: Chris
 
I place the note on her desk and wait for her coming
She steps into the room, her golden mane in a ponytail
I watch every shift of her limbs as she approaches the desk
She sits down; the tempo builds
She glances at the face of the note and turns her head
I sink to the floor and stare at the ground as I imagine Jude opening my passage
I hear the Seven Angelic Trumpeters play
 
My heart is almost ripping through my inferior chest
Butterflies tickle my stomach with their wings
I conjure the bravery to peek over my desk
I witness her throw a piece of paper in the trash-bowl
The trumpets’ sounds morph to horrifying shrieks
The butterflies transfigure to vultures that begin viciously tearing me from the inside
My metronome stops
 
The call for recess revives me
I stumble to the trash to recover the note which shows no recorded response
I furiously cover the front of the note with ink
Then I calmly overturn the note and write:
                To: Ally
                                From: Chris

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