“What are you thinking about?” she asks me.
“About going to Spain,” I reply.
“What are you going to do there?”
“Eat some delicious paella.”
“That’s all?”
“And fight in the Spanish Civil War.”
“That ended over sixty years ago.”
“I know,” I tell her.  “Lorca died and Hemingway survived.”
“But you want to be a part of it.”
I nod. “Yup. Blow up bridges and stuff.”
“And fall in love with Ingrid Bergman.”
“But in reality I’m here in Takamatsu.  And I’m in love with you.”
“Tough luck.”
I put my arm around her.
You put your arm around her.
She leans against you.  And a long spell of time passes.
“Did you know that I did this exact same thing a long time ago?  Right in this spot?”
“I know,” you tell her.
“How do you know that?” she asks, and looks you in the eyes.
“I was there then.”
“Blowing up bridges?”
“Yes, I was there, blowing up bridges.”
“Metaphorically.”
“Of course.”
You hold her in your arms, draw her close, kiss her.  You can feel the strength deserting her body.
“We’re all dreaming, aren’t we?” she says.
All of us are dreaming.

“upside d’owl”

“i’m not so much angry as disappointed”

“see you, cowboy”