A fictional interpretation of a song by Bill Withers

A fictional interpretation of a song by Taylor Swift.

A poetic interpretation of a song by Neon Trees.

Dinner is spectacular, considering the circumstances.

Emmalee's father has prepared a feast of steak with a side of fresh green beans and mashed potatoes. Colin can't remember the last time he had a meal so wonderful. Or perhaps that's just the head-trauma-induced hunger talking.

The dining room is as extravagant as the bedroom Colin woke up in a few hours earlier. Based on the architechture he's seen so far, he would guess they're somewhere in Europe now, Italy or France perhaps. But that can't be right. How would they have gotten here so quickly? How long had Colin been out? When did he wake up in the dark room?

He doesn't know anything. He hasn't been in touch with Harlem in ages. At least it feels like that to him. He's used to talking to Harlem at least once a day during a recruit mission. But this is beyond a recruit mission now.

And where is Lydia? Has she figured out they're gone? Would she even look for them? Colin doubts it. Lydia has only ever looked out for herself. Why would that change now? It's not like their relationship - or lack thereof - had improved at all.

"You two are awfully quiet," Emmalee's father says as he slices his steak with a knife.

"You still haven't answered my question, father. What. Do. You. Want," Emmalee says.

She snaps a green bean with her fingers, and takes a bite without looking away from her father. He stares back, and Colin looks back and forth at both of them. They appear to be having some sort of weird telepathic conversation.

Until Emmalee's father bursts out laughing.

"Oh, darling," Emmalee's father says. "Oh, you're just too much, dear. I've waited over a decade to dine with you. Do you really think I want to spoil it with such conversation? Tell me about your life, dear. I want to hear what you've been up to all this time."

Emmalee snorts and shakes her head.

"I don't believe you," she says. "You kidnap me and expect everything to be normal."

"Is it not? Should I have called you on the tele and invited you over instead?"

Emmalee doesn't answer. She pushes her food around with her fork. Colin doesn't know what to say or whether he should say anything at all. He feels completely out of place here. How did he get caught up in all this? Harlem should have warned him.

"What do you want, father, really?" Emmalee asks. "I don't have time to play your stupid guessing games."

"Well, actually, dear, you have all the time in the world."

And that's when the windows shattered and Harlem came to the rescue.

Everyday I get a little bit closer to the resolution.

The streets are slick from fresh rain when I take a seat on the steps outside a church. I should probably go in, but I’m tired of praying. I’ve been praying for him to come back into my life for far too long. It’s time to move on already.

I just can’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes the day we first met. It was like magic. All the cliches of fairytales and romantic comedies came to life. I ran into him on the street, right in front of the steps of this church, and though we were strangers in that moment, I felt like I’d known him my entire life. His brown eyes lit up, and he gave me that half-smile I’ve always found charming on a man, stuck out his hand and said “Hi, I’m Grisham.”

And just like that, the stranger became someone known.


The church bells were ringing when we had our first kiss.

It was midnight, and just like Cinderella I was running late and in a place I shouldn’t have been. I should have been on the dinner date I’d been looking forward to all week, but when Grisham called minutes before I was supposed to leave, my plans immediately changed.

A few years had gone by since the day we first met, but the church steps retained their significance for us. Our friendship forever cemented over the coffee he brought me the very next morning where I found him waiting for me on the steps. The church steps would become the one place we let all our walls come down. Everything important took place on these steps.

So when he told me to meet him, I did. Without hesitation.

“What happened?” I asked him, the sequins on my dress casting a constellation of lights on the church walls.

He gave me that half-smile I loved so much, and said, “This.”

And then he kissed me.


Everyday I get a little bit closer to the resolution.

Perhaps the commitment scared him. Perhaps the church steps were the only place the walls we’d built for ourselves could ever come down.

We made dinner plans the night after we decided to move in together as a celebration. Attending the open-house had been a joke, a simple, spontaneous decision during date night that led to the biggest decision of our lives. We applied for the space slightly tipsy, and left that night laughing at our boldness.

When the call came, we were both surprised.

“I’m in if you’re in,” he told me.

“I’m in,” I said.

He grinned, "Then we should celebrate tonight."

I arrived at the restaurant early, giddy and restless.

But he never showed.


My calls went straight to voicemail. I didn’t hear from him for weeks. I couldn’t reach him anywhere, and all his friends seemed to know something I had yet to learn.

Everyday I get a little closer to the resolution.

I didn’t mean what I thought I meant to him. When the clock struck midnight, and his lips touched mine, it wasn’t a promise. The friendship formed over coffee on the church steps was never built to last.

Now, the church bells ring in my ears as I get up from the steps.

I wipe the mud off the backs of my legs, and move on.