"If I were a carnival ride, what would I be?"
"I don't know," I smiled, "roller coaster?"
"Roller coaster? Boo! Come on! You're a writer!"
I shrugged, "It doesn't really work like that."
She nudged me, "Fine. You're such an artist! Only when inspiration hits, huh?"
I didn't tell her that she is the lights on a Tilt-A-Whirl: blinking, spinning, and multi-colored blending all the good and bad into a euphoric and chaotic blur.
I didn't tell her that she is the ascent on a ferris wheel: quiet, simple, and fleeting offering a feeling of anticipation and renewal to all she carries.
I didn't tell her that she is the electric sparks on bumper cars: hypnotizing and quick only revealing herself to those who know when to look.
"Helloooooo? You still with me?"
I turned to her. "Yeah. Sorry. What?"
"If I were a holiday, what would I be?"
I laughed, "Where are you getting these questions? Teen bop magazine?"
"It's an online quiz, thank you very much."
"Oh yeah? Is it verified? Do 4 out of 5 relationship experts approve?"
She pinched my arm. "Don't make fun."
"You're not a holiday."
"Yeah, but the fun of the question is if I was..."
"You're not a holiday because you're not commercial, predictable, or tedious."
"You're the lazy Sunday that comes with sleeping in with the afternoon light reaching out from underneath the blinds."
She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms. "Oh really?"
"You're the rainy Wednesday if all the raindrops were --"
"Lemon drops and gumdrops?"
We both chuckled and I sang, "Oh, what a rain that would be."
She looked away and didn't ask any more questions.
Maybe I had the wrong...
"Only thing to do is jump over the moon."
I was obsessed with Rent in middle school -- saw the film adaptation, looked up the musical afterwards, researched all the actors and...