Harvest festival

“I love you higher than bird can fly.”

The words stumbled slightly over each other as he pronounced them, but it was also unusual to say something like that. Simple words, straightforward, were the ones one used in everyday life, and simple words were uncomplicated. You said it just as it was.

But the situation was unique and might require special words. He had never tried anything, even remotely, like this.

At the harvest festival, last night, he danced with a very beautiful girl. He had never had a girlfriend, mostly because he was shy, and not because he could not imagine it. Many of the comrades had experiences with girls, and talked freely and naturally about it. He did not like that for this to have a girl to love, was something great and holy. It ought one not be careless with.

But the girl had put up to him and it was then ended in cheek to cheek dancing. Before she disappeared, like a butterfly in the night, she had given him her phone number … and a kiss on the cheek, as he could still feel the sweetness of. He conducted regularly his hand up to the place and got a puzzled, dreamy and questioning look on his face.

“Could it really be true that she had thought of him?”

The following day, he recounted carefully about it, and his friends amused themselves inside. Such a bulky guy had had an experience with a “skirt.” It seemed ridiculous, so there had to be pulled entertainment out of it. After some urgent negotiations they got him compelled to call her up, “because this was what she wanted, and because it was what we use to do.”

He had not thought like this at all. What happened last night was a dream, and it was very frail. He did not dare. This dream he could live the rest of his life, so it should not burst.

But he withstood not pressed, and his friends had probably also right as usual. They knew more about the kind than he, and they were good at football. The one with the other.

“But I don’t know what to say,” he objected.

The comrades knew who the girl was and it was a mystery to them, how he could achieve such a favor with her. She was so attractive that one and all would drop everything they were doing, if they could obtain her favor. So now they would make fun of it, because there had to be done something here, so it was manageable again.

They provided him with the most comical manners, they could find at and laughed at each other while gesticulating repeated them out of his earshot.

“Then you will get her,” they said.

He was confused, but when they said it there might be something about it, because they were friends, so they wanted probably only the best for him.

The comrades struck a circle around him as he rang her up. They rejoiced, for she would laugh her ass off when she heard his clumsy crap.

“I love you, higher than bird can fly. Your eyes are deeper than a forest lake.” He mumbled the words a little choppy and stammering, desperately looking for the comrades approving glances. But even if, somehow, they liked him, were they expecting, and waiting for, his crushing defeat. For it gave the day content.

Emma was talking to her best friend:

“I met a cute guy at the harvest party last night. He is quite different from the others, and you should hear his words when he called me today. For the first time I have met someone who thinks of nothing but football and banter. Him I could fall in love with. He gives me the cutest butterflies in my stomach, and when I’m getting married, it should be with someone like him. And,” she added dreamily, “maybe just him.”