8. There's no measuring love. Nothing else is love.

The song had gone on repeat seven and a half time when my legs started to hurt from standing up for so long.
We had both fallen asleep dancing, standing up and moving.
I did not think that that would be possible.
But with him I was not in my world anymore, I was in our world.
We made the rules.
And of course you could sleep standing up. Well yeah, you could even sleep while slowdancing.
I adored his mind and his upper-lip.
They where both perfect in every way.
He noticed that I had stared at his upper-lip for about two times that the song had played and said:

”Errhm. Well. I guess we should be going.”
I closed my eyes.
I was not tired anymore.
I had never been more awake.
His words did not agree with his hands, as they were still tightly braided around my waist.
I liked them being there. They pulled me together.
I did not want the night to end.
For me it had'nt even started quite.
So we brewed four double-espressos, left some money on the cashregister to cover up our nightly expenses and headed out into the dawn.
The morning light shined right at us.
It burned in our eyes.
We tried to close them, but that just caused our alcoholised legs to tremble and fall onto the sidewalk.
We laughed and giggled and ran as fast as any human being can at that time of day.
We went to the park.
The rain had stopped several hours ago and the raising sun was slowly drycleaning the city.
We encountred a bigger bridge. It was made out of concrete and there was more place to sit.
The morning wind was blowing the first real cold winds of the fall.
I crawled in into his thin leather-jacket.
He took out his mp3-player and gave me one of the headphones.
Kissing the lipless was playing. I had learned to love that song.
We had learned to adore each other.
I would forever love this new day and the smell of his leather-jacket against my skin.
And so we faced a new day, drinking espressos,
listening to The Shins and breathing in the cold air of october.

”You said something the other day.”
”I said many things the other day dear, care to be a bit more specific?”

I had always hated that word. ”Dear”. Like I was some sort of forest animal.
Of course it was not spelled the same. It made no difference to me. I was not dear, I was me.
I breathed. I talked. I wanted to at least. But when he said it I neglected it's sillyness.
I accepted his words. Cause they were his. And I adored him.

”you said that you had everything and nothing in your pocket.”

”oh, that. Yes. Yes of course I do.”

”what did you mean by that?
Is it supposed to be some profund, psycological analysis I'm too stupid to figure out?”

”of course not.”
his eyes twinkled at me. He was trying to be mystical.
This time it worked.

”So?, then tell.”

”I will.”

”When?”

”You'll know.”

A couple of days later he showed me.
He followed me home and passed the streets that lead home to my neighborhood.
In his pocket he held a small heart.
It was made out of some hard material that had about a million details in it.
He said his father gave it to him.
He wanted to give him all the love he had before he walked away.

”All you need is love” he said.
”that's a cheesy beatles-song and an used-up catch-frase” I thought.
But I bit my tounge.
He could still see the irony shine thru my eyes.
So he lauged a bit.