"Call within the next 90 minutes and recieve a free heartache."

It has been weeks since I visited the scene of the crime. I no longer need the esthetics to remember every detail of how the night played out. The events run chronologically through my mind. Frame by frame, sentence by sentence, breathe by breathe. What could easily be described as the longest night of my life could also be described as the best or worst night of my life, depending on my current mood.
The way the summer breeze became irrelevant as our innocence was devoured whole. We didn't know what we were getting ourselves into, but we were fearless, we were our own heroes.
Young, stupid, and full of vigor, we were invincible. Nothing could stop us as we crossed the frame to the room which held our fate within its walls. Dust danced through pink and orange beams of light barging through the blinds as the sun retreated behind the suburban buildings to rest its head. We knew we would not be joining it, we would rendezvous with our partner in crime, a moon which resembled a perfectly trimmed thumb nail.
A yawn escaped from your lips, which seemed to be the first time they separated in hours. "Just one night" I assured you. " Then we can rest for the remainder of our lives."
You shot me a nod of approval acknowledging that we had work to do. We worked side by side, among late night 900 number commercials and George Forman grill infomercials.