Making a conscious effort to veer away from such clichés as "nowhere" and "nothing", I sat trying to think of something to say that could properly describe my life. I figured that the only conceivable way one could attain actual nothing or nowhere was to be dead; and as far as I could tell, I wasn't dead. This guy seemed to be interested in my life, which was a definite first. Anybody, let alone a guy, showing interest in me, was something I was not well aquainted with.

"I'm not sure how to describe it," I stammered. He scratched his forehead and looked at the ground beneath him.

"Just say the first thing that pops into your head I suppose."

I thought for a second, staring hard at his left shoulder.

"Uh...confusing...I guess," I said. He grinned and looked right at me.

"I think we can all say that about life. That's what keeps things interesting."

"I suppose you're right. But sometimes I just wish I could have an occasional moment of clarity, ya know? I mean, I'd just for once like to understand everything, even if just for a minute."

"I know the feeling," he said quietly and picked some grass that was growing from a crack in the sidewalk. A plane flew overhead. "Maybe there will be some of those moments when we're older, eh? I mean, like, when we've settled down and know where we're going."

"I hope so," I replied, still staring at his shoulder. I hadn't noticed before, but I had been wringing my hands together so that now they had become quite sweaty. I stopped and rubbed them on my pants, hoping he thought it was just a casual gesture. "But I'm getting damned tired of waiting."

He paused, looked right at me. It caught me off guard and I looked away.

"What exactly are you waiting for?" he asked, smiling. Oh God, there went my stomach into a tight knot.

"What am I not waiting for?" A careful response. He kept on smiling. There was something behind the grin; something I couldn't recognize yet but knew was there. Then he leaned towards me and very carefully kissed my lips. I lingered, stunned, but then looked at him and then at the sky. We sat there, silent, as the day continued to slide by.

Sunday. The day of rest, as they say. And summer, so the world is more still, more unwilling to let anything move without putting forth great effort. Sweat was easy to come by. There were tiny beads of sweat welling up on my forehead, reminding me of the heat and of how very nervous I was. That had been my first kiss, not counting stage-kissing, of course. Seventeen years it had taken. No big deal. But still, there was his shoulder, taking up my view because it was the least-threatening part of his body I could bring myself to concentrate on.

This was what I had been waiting for all these years. That kiss was the single most fantasized about event in my mind since puberty, maybe even before. I had never thought about who it might be with, who might be the one to actually want to kiss me. I hadn't even been considering the possibility that this would happen with him just a half hour ago. Alex. He was new, and so had not yet been informed as to my "stay clear of" status that was held by most boys. I had been caught off-guard when he'd approached me and struck up a rather pleasant conversation some days ago. Alex was a good looking guy, with endlessly deep green eyes and jet black hair that he had cut kind of short and unruly. His features were dark, something I've always been fond of, and the bones of his face were strong but not completely angular. There was a barely perceptible softness there that gave him a look of compassion and emotion. He was of average height and had a good, athletic build. Needless to say, I was absolutely smitten from the get-go.

And now here he had gone and kissed me. I was at a complete loss for words. None of my friends would believe it, me not being able to speak. I was a notoriously outspoken person. Except that, right then, barely a breath escaped my lips.

I braved taking my eyes from his shoulder and looked up, only to be caught in the incredibly intense gaze of his verdant eyes. Oh boy, I thought, I'm gonna either throw up or throw myself at him. Neither option looks particularly smooth.

He cracked a tiny grin, allowing the one dimple on his left cheek a chance to become visible. I wanted to dive into his eyes, let him hold me there forever. I was tired, lonely, and suddenly infatuated. I wanted him, so much so that it frightened me in its' sudden and intense presence. I wanted to taste the depths of his mouth, where the hell did that come from?, to map out the contours of his face, shoulders, and back with my hands, you've lost it ya know, lose myself in his warm embrace, hopeless romantic!. But that seemed too much to ask for.

The secedes picked up their droning hum, filling the sticky afternoon air with their buzzing protests of the suns' merciless onslaught. Or at least, that's what I believed they ought to be making all that noise for. I sucked in a lung full of air, still unable to break eye contact with him, and tried my hand a smiling. I'm sure it came out all wrong. More like a showing of teeth, or something. But he grinned back and brought his hand up to gently move a strand of my hair out from my face and tucked it behind my ear.

This was as I had always imagined it would be. The quiet stillness of a summer afternoon, the almost respectful hush that fell over everything, the way his brilliant green eyes smiled at me knowingly. What did he know?

A wonderfully peaceful sensation fell over me, blanketing me, almost cooling me against the heat of the day. I pushed myself up from my seated position and brought him along with me. We stood facing each other for a moment longer as I touched his mouth with my forefinger, tracing the lines and memorizing its' shape. I leaned forward again, bringing our lips together once more, and kissed him long and deep. It was beautiful. It was perfect.

When we finally pulled back, it was for nothing more than a lack of air. I shut my eyes briefly, reveling in the new sensations that flooded my body and mind. When I opened them again, he was staring at me, a look of undisguised giddiness in the emerald depths.

Contented, I turned to face the door that would lead back inside my house. He put out a hand to stop me and cocked his head to the side in question.

"I'm going in," I answered his unspoken query. "Thank you, for everything."

And I entered the house, shut the door carefully behind me, and moved to the stairs that would lead up into the attic. In the attic, I removed a wrapped bundle from behind some shelving and then opened the trap door that would let me out onto the roof.

I sat there on the shingled surface for an indeterminable stretch of time, listening to the secedes and watching the gold and purple and pink light show of sunset. From my vantage point I could see out across all of the housetops in our neighborhood. I could hear the far-off laughter of children playing in the park down the street and the repetitive moan of a lawnmower somewhere in the distance. Perfect.

The weight of the bundle in my lap brought my attention back to it. Slowly, I removed the cloth and took out the thing that had been contained therein. This object, smooth cool metal, would ensure that this perfection would never end, never become tainted. I left Alex on the back stoop, probably wondering why I had bailed on him like that, but also fixed in my memory as my first kiss. The perfect boy, the perfect lips. Everything was as it should be. And so, with those pleasant thoughts in my mind, I brought the gun up to my head and said hello to the world.