Last night, between
the pizza and the death ray
she found out who I was again.
As always, she took it rather well
once I'd saved the day and made it home.
When I told her about the mind wipe, she cried.
It's for her own safety;
It's to keep them from knowing.
She always understands in the end.
For that, I respect her.
For that, I love her:
it's hard to be my girl.
So this afternoon, I took a day off;
bought her ice cream in the park
sat under the leaves and held her hand
she smiled up at me
as hair drifted across her face.
I smiled, and then I cried.
She couldn't understand why.
Copyright © 2004 Leah Bobet
Leah Bobet studies English Literature and Linguistics at the University of Toronto. Her work has appeared recently in On Spec and Arabella Romances, and is upcoming in H.P. Lovecraft's Magazine of Horror. Her previous publications in Strange Horizons can be found in our Archive. She is a recipient of the Lydia Langstaff Memorial Prize and enjoys reading, playing guitar, costuming, and gourmet cooking. To contact her, send email to firstname.lastname@example.org.