She lounged on his couch with a ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead, laptop across her knees.  All she wanted to do was write, but one thing or another seemed to get in the way endlessly.  She had to question herself as to whether it was he or she that had picked the fight.  Sure he had behaved childishly, but there was nothing new in that.  What man didn’t?  Weren’t they all just a bunch of over-grown boys in one way or another.  Besides she knew she had her moments too.

The problem was that ANYTHING was a distraction, even the annoying flicker of the fan’s shadow across the ceiling.  She found herself repeatedly glancing up at the tops of the walls to realize each time it was only the phantom darkness cast by the slow turning blades.  Nothing new, nothing to take notice of.  Yet she was entranced by it . . . drawn to it over and over just as her thoughts returned over and over to him.

Why were they doing this?  It was obvious neither of them had any sincere interest in fighting.  It was really an excuse to gain a bit of space between them.  They seemed to spend all their time together . . . joined at the hip, you might say.  She felt there had to be some separation . . . didn’t there?  She yearned for just a little time alone, to steal a few moments just with herself.  Perhaps he felt the same.  She had never thought of it that way before.

They had quarreled and he had left.  Nothing pissed her off more than to be walked out on, but for some strange reason, she felt no malice this time, simply relief.  She sat on his couch mesmerized by the flickering shade at ceiling’s edge.  She glanced at the blank screen in front of her, but all of her thoughts were of him.  Suddenly, she knew.  Yes, she needed time for herself, but he was only just gone and she missed him terribly.  She realized she couldn’t wait for him to get back so she could appropriately demonstrate to him just how much she loved him.

She smiled as the words of a love sonnet flowed onto the screen.