I was drowning in his lips, the world flashed pink and yellow behind my eyelids. Soft warm emotions surround me. I begin to kiss him back. I'm grabbing onto his sleeve, then reaching for the small of his back, all the while nibbling him.

We got up to leave. Soon we were walking through wan knee-high grasses and looking out over a cool slate ocean and its relentless rollers crashing on the massive broken boulders.

He pushes my arm off from around his waist.

I'm on my bike now, peddling up and down the gravelly hillside searching for him. He's gone. Each time I spot a male sillhouette my heart jumps, but he is gone.

Deuce is curled up leaning against my stomach when I wake up. The two-year old is wailing next door for some two-year old reason. Deuce begins to knead me, but my mind does not calm. Rain greys the skies.

I want to fly like Wendy, up up to Neverneverland. How did she get there? She believed. I believe. I'm ready for this. Old love can remain there, it probably always will. But he called me, hung over beyond belief, desparate for something beyond advice on what to get MBJ for her birthday. He didn't talk about himself - instead there was obscene silence. "What did you get up to last night?" "Shopping with Miss S along Robson Street. We were stalking this guy she likes that works in one of the sport stores. So highschool, but so fun. Plus I found an awesome black skirt." Silence ensues. "Are you alive?" "Yeah. I'm still in bed. Just woke up." I noted the time was 2pm. The point of that story is that he helped me to not want to be with him. For seven months he's drank, smoked pot, and gone clubbing for skanks. He consistently pushes school further and further into the future - "One more season with the show. I might get moved up to lead carp." He's stagnant. Virtually identical to when we went for our first date - a walk along the West Van seawall - over two years ago.