Point Of View  by Girl Friday
copyright (c) 2003, all rights reserved


Damn, it was hot.  Wishing once again that I'd been born in Alaska instead of Oregon, I strolled around the practice rings and holding pens.  The rodeo was in full swing as the July heat rose in waves from the dry, dusty earth.  I'd been looking for an hour now and still hadn't found man nor beast.  I decided my best shot at locating Curt was the field where the pick-ups and horse trailers were parked.  

I searched the field methodically until I came across the truck I would know anywhere.  A dark gray Ford with an eight foot bed, meticulously and lovingly maintained.  A two-horse trailer, painted the same dark gray was parked just behind the truck.  I checked the trailer and found it empty.  They'd be back at some point, all I had to do was wait.  I leaned against the side of the truck and looked into the bed as the memories, unbidden, began to roll over me.

Wraith-like images, figments of my memory, seemed to spring to life.  A slim young girl with hair the color of wheat and a slightly older boy, darkly tanned, whipcord lean came together in a powerful kiss.  Their ghostly silhouettes merged into one as they explored each other for the first time.  I watched them in a detached manner, trying not to remember what it felt like to be that young girl, my first lover showing me the way as his body brought me to one delicious orgasm after another.  Curt had promised me forever that night under the star-filled sky.

I turned away from the images in the truck and saw him approaching.  The man, still lean but with an aura of strength and power, rode a palomino gelding that was the best cow-horse in the state.  The horse came to stop in front of me as Curt swung down from the saddle.  He studied me for a moment, his intent gaze missing nothing.

"You took that job, didn't you?"

I didn't bother to reply.  We both knew it was true and that it meant I was leaving.

"Your leaving won't change the way I feel about you.  You know where to find me if things don't work out."
	
"It's over, Curt.  I'm not coming back."

"Some things change, some don't.  It all depends on your point of view."

I left him there, brushing down his horse.  There was nothing more to say.  Only time would tell which was correct, his point of view-- or mine.

--Fin--

Is this the end? Read 'Drive' to find out.
