When we got there to order our food, she mentioned we had been there before. I was sure at that point we both were on different pages in our relationship. The female type others typically know what they are saying better than us males, but this one smacked of ignorance. Where was my mind the last we ate there?
The idea is that the others, who travel out to the unknown and back, do not comprehend time. They have pockets of memory that are intended to stay blissful. Meaning they are here, but not entirely. Breathing in ALL the environments to later transmit the information back to the people on earth. As an Ambassador, Jessica understood that her lack of time comprehension would show in her relationships sooner or later.
“When did we eat here last?” I asked her.
“The year was neveryear, remember?” The Ambassador; I thought to myself as she responded with the tale of a true Buzz-lightyear. They have no respect for our time here on earth.
“I understand that you are intergalactically jet-lagged, but please, I am hungry just order.” I pleaded to her.
“I will eat salad” She tells the young boy taking our order. The boy then registers her order on the screen and looks up to me for my order.
“…the usual” I told him. But I wasn’t sure where that response came from. My instinct was just that, to order the usual. Maybe I had been there before but refused to agree with her in the moment. Jessica was a tough Ambassador, her confident walk and candor to people is what got her up there. Her teammates appointed her head captain of the softball team at Mathara College – meaning not only was she a natural born leader, but she was also looked up to in sports.
Women of the intergalactic Ambassadors were magnificent, although intimidating. And how I ended up on a train with her back to the others’ land was magnificent in the context of time.
I met Jessica Bush at the Freshman’s Athletic meet and greet banquet. It was two months prior to students moving into campus dormitories. She was a Blotsburg native, meaning she was different according to the bourgeoisie. Wearing her confidence as well as her uptown crim de la crim style of clothing. Girls never talked about her behind her back because they knew she was a bitch too. They never judged her either, and for the men she dated, she is the one that got away. A well understood bi-racial girl. She was born into the best of both worlds. When I first met her, I saw a bitch, because of how we met. She showed her candor to me in a way I couldn’t respond, then fell for me any way. The honeymoon stage of our relationship lasted as long as the train ride back to Saint Laurenco Circle…