( WP ) The first sentence has to be the same as the last sentence , but the ending has to catch the reader off guard .


 I could sit on the hood of this car with you forever. But you and I know this is borrowed time. you and I know that makes it all the sweeter. How can infinite time with you be my dream if I know that the moment I obtain it the sweetness of your company will drain away? Grass once green faded to brown by the summer sun. A dusty teal blanket, once a rich midnight blue before washing. 
 What we hold now is solid gold. We live for the moments and the secrets. This song wouldn ’ t be half as beautiful if I listened to it forever, but because this is my first and possibly last listen through I ’ ll hang on every lyric, every note 
 
 
 The music seeps out of my open car windows. You ’ re hand clenches and unclenches. Mine lays open on the hood of my car, inches from yours. My hand is an invitation, yours is torn with indecision. A simple gesture could be all that it would be, but we both know it can ’ t stop simply. It must be complicated because we are complicated. Without exchanging words, without exchanging any physical gestures thus far, we have both built worlds in our respective minds. We created pasts, and future beyond measure, beyond reality. No, holding hands for me and you could never be simple. 
 
 
 It can go one of two ways. In one vein our imaginations would have only been a dreamy premonition of what always laid latent in our connection. Your hand would slip into mine and a rush of expectations becoming realities would make us high, high, high. We spend weeks, months or years drenched in the build up of a love we previously thought unattainable. and yet all highs have a comedown. Eventually the novelty would wear off. We would grow weary of the sugary sweet taste of that love. We would begin to look beyond each other. The solid gold would tarnish, slowly but surely. 
 
 
 Both possibilities begin to same way; your hand comes to rest in mine. Only in this realm the moment your hand touches mine we both feel the fault in our made-up worlds. The weight of the assumptions in our hearts would strangle us. Unable to admit to one another that the connection was a mutual pipe dream we ’ d force it into being. The sheer amount of energy put into pretending to be happy, put into manifesting a never-happening love, would cause us to resent each other. The disappointment of stunted expectations would turn inward on each other. 
 
 
 And so this is the only reality for you and I. We can stay suspended in this vessel of intentions undeclared, words unsaid. This anticipation of an day never dawning is the honey we seek. The future unknown is all that can be for us because we ’ d rather not know. We ’ d rather not melt this solid gold down to liquid form, scrutinize it ’ s contents and know it thoroughly. Our choice is to not make one and so my hand will stay open in invitation and your will forever clench and unclench. I could sit on the hood of this car with you forever.
