Chords by Maybepink

I used to think I'd spend all my life waiting. I thought I'd never find a partner who would compliment me in all the right ways. I wanted us to be two notes, different, joining together to form a chord. I wanted music, harmony, two lives melding together, the way a good duet sounds like one voice, Simon and Garfunkel complimenting each other.

Willow was close but I felt like she didn't understand the darker side of me, the sweat, blood, and fur that made full moon nights so painful. Veruca was the opposite, all tearing flesh and stinging teeth. After I left Sunnydale for the last time, when there was still a Sunnydale to leave, I swore to be celibate, find the inner peace my calm exterior and low word count had always falsely projected on the exterior.

Living in Tibet it wasn't hard to abstain. The monks were too pure and most of them didn't speak English. It was a calming time, and I was content to let my hand be my only lover.

When I returned to the states, everything was harsh and bright, moving fast in neon lights. The whole country smelled like fast food, grease and exploitation. I traveled down high ways and back roads, searching for a face that didn't seem fake.

I found him strumming a guitar in a seedy small town bar. His hair was shaggy, his voice like a mint julep, and his soul a shade of gray to match my own.

Lindsey is sleeping in my arms when the sun rises, pours through the window of our ramshackle ranch house. Two guitars are propped against the wall. I kiss his forehead. He murmurs softly and it's the most perfect of chords.

.End