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Er Liebt Mich

Er liebt mich...

Er liebt mich nicht...

He loves me, he loves me not. A childish game that young girls only play. I am in my thirties and I am certainly not a young girl, yet here I am. Sitting on a bench, absently picking apart a flower I hold in my hands and keeping the “er liebt mich” petals on the sunwarmed stone next to me. The “er liebt mich nicht” petals drop to the ground in front of me. I never say anything to the person-in-question – the “he” in the “he loves me not” questions – but I always glance at him every time I say “he loves me”.

And, as always, he never takes his eyes off of the canvas in front of him.

Another “er liebt mich” petal, another glance unnoticed.

“You're looking pensive today, aren't you?” he asks, piercing blue eyes still on canvas. “You look a little depressed as well.”

I shrug slightly. “It really is none of your concern.”

“Well,” he said, “excuse me for being concerned about you. I'll think twice before asking you how you feel from now on.”

Another “er liebt mich nicht” petal. I let it drop from my hands, giving it a grind with the toe of my boot. The petal isn't a petal anymore, just red pulp on the stone underneath my feet. “Well... I don't know how to say this...” I say, hesitating before pulling off an “er liebt mich” petal.

“If I didn't know any better, Heinrich,” he says, “I'd say you were in love.”

I drop the “er liebt mich” petal and feel the blush creep up my neck and into my cheeks. “Wh-what?”

“In love, Heinrich,” he says, finally looking up at me from his canvas. “You do shit to try and hide your emotions. Look at you! You're blushing at the very mention of love!”

Er liebt mich...

“Tell me. Who is the girl?”

Er liebt mich nicht.

I swallow down what I was originally going to say and replace it with silence. “And suddenly you're silent. Don't worry, Heinrich. I'll get it out of you sooner or later,” he says. I doubt it severely, I thought. I pick another petal and place it next to me. If the last one is an “er liebt mich” petal, I'll take them all home with me. Maybe if I keep them, they'll be some sort of good luck...

How can he not notice, though? I've been trying not to show any signs of affection, but how can one not? Either he hasn't noticed or he has and just doesn't care. A few more petals and I get to the last one. Er liebt mich nicht.

I stare at the petal, then up at him. You don't see me at all, do you? I think. I pick up the “er liebt mich” petals and drop them on the stone in front of me.

Er liebt mich nicht.