marry me/marry me not

listen, dear x. don't fret. you won't die alone, and you won't have any cats! i'll buy you a plastic ring. i'll play that record you adore (oh and how i adore you, x).

remember the way fergus and wheaton used to play? such prettily-freckled boys (so small and pale). recess behind the wire fence...they stuck stolen forks upright in the ground and watered them with chocolate milk. hush! the two boys murmured, a tribute to the fairies.

now we are all grown up, dear x...but does it really matter? these darling little rituals. these ceremonies of chocolate milk and light. trust me, they're still the same. sure we are older now and meanings shift: stolen forks bend to form a wedding arch beneath who stand - a man, a woman - beaming.

tomorrow, i'll bring you a porcelain cup and we'll have ourselves a tea party. i'll tie a ribbon in your hair, and you'll fold a heart-shaped leaf and tuck it inside my breast pocket. then, dear x, we'll elope by train! (because this is a game even children know how to play).