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He looked down at the woman he loved- the woman he'd just kissed, opening what was left of his shredded heart. Her eyes were wide and unreadable. It was a moment that held infinite possibilities.
She would kiss him again.
She would slap him.
She would burst into sobs.
She would cry against his chest.
She would run away.
She would walk.
She would say, "I love you, too."
She would say, "I can't."
She would call herself an idiot.
She would curse him for ruining her life.
She would thank him for saving it.
He would leave and never come back.
He would leave and come back after his vacation.
He would leave and come back after time in Stamford.
He would never, ever leave her.
They would meet again in New York.
In Las Vegas.
On his doorstep.
They would go to Paris on their honeymoon.
They would go to the beach as just friends.
They would go to the roof of the office.
They would never go anywhere together again.
They would have sex on his desk.
They would have sex in his apartment.
In her apartment.
Over the phone.
In her car.
In his imagination.
She would have his baby.
She would have Roy's baby.
She would lose the baby.
She would marry him.
She would marry Roy.
He would stop her from marrying Roy.
He wouldn't try.
He would get over her.
He would go back to his ex-girlfriend.
He would never get over her.
He would have her.
She would call him.
She would e-mail him.
She would show up on his doorstep.
She would bump into him on the street.
He would become a teacher.
A top salesman.
A suicide case.
She would be an artist.
A receptionist. Always.
She would cry at her wedding.
She would glow.
They would stay friends.
They would take some time apart.
They would never be "they" again.
They would be together.
She inhaled, and parted her lips to speak. Whatever happened next, though, he knew she'd kissed him back. In that moment, for one last moment, he had hope.