I knew in that moment that I was done for. I felt it in that single, solitary instant like some cosmic blast from an unseen flamethrower...
"Who is he?" I asked.
"The big one? Or the little one?" She countered.
"The tall one that looks like Dopey..." I replied. "I want to meet him."
Her eyes lit up with all the trouble-making tenacity that made her her. "Are you gonna bring him home?"
I chuckled. Bring him home, I did. And for years following, there was seldom a night that he wasn't by my side.
We lived fast. We loved hard. We fucked harder, and partied the hardest of all. We dug our nails into each others flesh and held on for dear life as the angry tides that were the world around us tried like Hell to beat us down and tear us apart. We were having none of it. We were two warriors without the weapons needed, fighting a battle I think we both knew, in our hearts, that we were destined to ultimately lose. We were our own private Waterloo.
