Snapshot

The fire we built to make s'mores with begins to sputter its demise. You curl up next to me on the sand, where we watch the sun slowly paint the world in shades of honey and pastel. The lake in front of us ripples where a breeze buffets the surface and you pull closer.

"Isn't it beautiful?" You whisper.

"I wish I could live in this moment forever," I reply. You pull away and look at me, your eyes serene and golden in the glow of the sunset.

"Me too," you say.

And for the first time ever, we kiss. I try to record everything I can about the moment, so I can remember it forever. The way your lips still taste like hershey's chocolate from the s'mores, the way the hairs on my neck ignore gravity to stand straight on end, and the way the wind has chilled the tip of your nose so my skin tingles where it touches. I wish so badly I had a camera and could take a picture of now, freezing it for eternity. Saving this moment for when you are old and life has left you disillusioned, so you can look at this snapshot, and maybe your eyes will glow just a little like they did in the sun's last rays, and you will be able to smell a hint of smoke from the dying fire.