Love?

"Hey Jools" I asked late tonight, after the shopping meds had kicked in. "Want to go to the mall or something?"

Okay, I admit it, I have had a crush on her for as long as I have worked here.

The biggest test of trust we all go through is telling each other our real names.

"Peter, I don't shop, you know that," she pushed pens around on her desk as if they were ants.

"Julianne!" I yelled, "is it Smith? Springsteen? Phillips?"

Her skin grew more pale, if that was possible, then she fired back,

"Peter, is it Kilburn? Mahan? Legier, Jaramillo, Kirkwood?"

I felt ashamed. Neither of us could even pronounce, much less spell, our supposed last names.

"Juli, I''m sorry, it's the holidays, the drugs, its, I don't........."

She kissed me, hard.

" Peter," she whispered, "It doesn't matter what our names are now, or what they were then. It doesn't matter how people perceive us, really. Nothing matters anymore, except for us getting out."

I returned her kiss with the desperation of time. God, she was beautiful.

"Okay," I breathed into her neck, "okay."