My favorite memory of her.

It was a few years ago, when our relationship was still fresh.


I had fallen on rough financial times and my power was cut off. I took it pretty hard. She was supposed to come over the night I found out, so I called her up and tried to reschedule. She asked me why and I refused to lie to her. I told her how ashamed I was at not being able to pay my own bills, quite horribly depressed and didn't want her to see me in such a state.


"It doesn't matter to me. I'm on my way over."


When she arrived it was after dark and my apartment was illuminated by candlelight. I was crestfallen.


She tried her hardest to bring me out of it.


"You're not a failure, jeez."


"Everybody struggles sometimes."


"I still like you"


Anyone who's ever dealt with me when I'm depressed knows how unresponsive I can be and the feelings of utter frustration that particular trait can instill.


"C'mon," she said, this time much less enthusiastically," what do you want to do?"


My eyes quickly surveyed my surroundings. Almost every single thing we usually did together required electricity. Then, I remembered our outing to Borders two nights prior when I had purchased a novel sized pop up book authored by Stephen King.


I looked at her with the most genuine smile I could muster, "I could read to you by candlelight."


"Ok." She said as she smiled back. It was one of the only times I've seen her eyes and lips smile in concert.


So, I removed the plastic from the tome and began. As I read, I'd change my voice to fit the characters and pull levers which brought the pages to life. She sat and listened untilI turned the last one and brought the story to its end.


During the entire course of our intimate, calamitous relationship, this is the only moment I think we truly shared. I also think I enjoyed it way more than she did.