I’m going to pick a moment to live and it won’t be expected like a birthday, holiday, landmark like moving, or breaking someone’s stare. A mother’s meal, dad’s advice, hospital break out or work-up purchase. An achievement medal-worthy, wedding or chip-eating-cemetery sitting with Jack, John, Paul.
Instead I pick this long forgotten kiss which both parties remember on technicality: the jukebox mechanism, toilet lock, soaked beer mats. And in hindsight it’s a regraded movie, re-reviewed a decade later by sit-through-movie-goers who toy with their “leave any time clause.” And they’d always rather stay than leave and never know. Conclusivity is better, whatever it sheds. Usually just carrot grated boredom.