I didn’t know you until you crashed into my car. Swerved in the middle of the night, losing grip in the black ice and into me.
You cried when you saw our bodies. Screaming. Sobbing. I thought you would have choked if you were still breathing.
So I told you every joke I know. Some witty. Others hilarious. Ridiculous puns. Hell, even a knock-knock joke about Peter Pan. Eventually, you took pity and laughed at me. Smiled. And I melted.
For five hours, the world stopped. Forgot about the cars strewn across the road, body turning colder as families slept peacefully in their ignorance. We laughed more. Shared our secret. Talked. Sang. Danced. Kissed.
When the sun came up, the figure appeared in their robe. I stepped in-between you both.
She told us it was time. We couldn’t stay.
I turned back to you. I had to tell you that I loved you. That in one night I had fallen so unmistakably in love with you that it exceeded anything I had felt in my life. That I would fight off death and tear the sun from the sky so our night could go on forever.
You were already gone.