It was in a shack, in the woods. A small house filled with empty cans of paint, cigarette butts and smashed aluminum cans of Diet Pepsi.
It was there that we declared our love for each other, as children. Then, as teenagers. It was so important then, to hide our love. Not because it was bad or wrong or against our family values. But because we didn’t want to share it with anyone. Unlike other love that you want to shout from rooftops.
The two of us wanted to whisper it, in each others ears. It existed only for us.
A selfish love. Dark, dank. Never to see the light of day.
I was told, decades later, that the shack had burned down. Even it hadn’t, it would have fallen eventually. It was just too old, rickety, even then. Such a fragile thing, that shack, ready to collapse at any given moment. With the slightest touch or whisper.