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Ian didn't come. he just sat here with you--he said he didn't care what you looked like. he wouldn't let anyone else put a finger on your tank at all, not even me or mel. but doc let me watch this time. it was way cool, wanda. i don't know why you wouldn't let me watch before. they wouldn't let me help, though. ian wouldn't let anyone touch you but him.' ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper through all the hair. his voice was so low that i was the only one who could hear. 'i held you in my hand, wanderer. and you were so beautiful.
-Stephenie Meyer
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Ian Didn't Come. He Just Sat Here

Stephenie Meyer
Ian didn't come. he just sat here with you--he said he didn't care what you looked like. he wouldn't let anyone else put a finger on your tank at all, not even me or mel. but doc let me watch this time. it was way cool, wanda. i don't know why you wouldn't let me watch before. they wouldn't let me help, though. ian wouldn't let anyone touch you but him.' ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper through all the hair. his voice was so low that i was the only one who could hear. 'i held you in my hand, wanderer. and you were so beautiful.
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Beautiful Hair Hands

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Ian squeezed my hand and leaned in to whisper through all the hair. his voice was so low that i was the only one who could hear. 'i held you in my hand, wanderer. and you were so beautiful.
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Wanderer: you don't really feel that way about me you know. it's this body... she's pretty isn't she? ian: she is. melanie is a very pretty girl. even beautiful. but pretty as she is, she is a stranger to me. she's not the one i... care about. wanderer: it's this body. ian: that's not true at all. it's not the face, but the expressions on it. it's not the voice, but what they say. it's not how you look like in that body, it's what you do with it. you are beautiful.
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Cool is spent. cool is empty. cool is ex post facto. when advertisers and pundits hoard a word, you know it's time to retire from it. to move on. i want to suggest, therefore, that we begin to avoid cool now. cool is a trick to get you to buy garments made by sweatshop laborers in third world countries. cool is the triumph of the will. cool enables you to step over bodies. cool enables you to look the other way. cool makes you functional, eager for routine distraction, passive, doped, stupid.
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They sat on a bench and sproule held his wounded arm to his chest and rocked back and forth and blinked in the sun. what do you want to do? said the kid. get a drink of water. other than that. i dont know. you want to try and head back? to texas? i don't know where else. we'd never make it. well you say. i aint got no say. he was coughing again. he held his chest with his good hand and sat as if he'd get his breath. what have you got, a cold? i got consumption. consumption? he nodded. i come out here for my health.
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I can remember how i sang - a little more nasal-y back then. listening to those old recordings is like seeing a photograph of yourself from 10 years ago. you're wearing what you thought looked cool at the time. you had your hair styled the particular way you thought looked cool. it's an accurate depiction of who you were and what you looked and sounded like at that point in your life. it doesn't necessarily mean that it aged in a way that it feels as cool or sounds as good to you, or says what you thought it said, 10 years later. that's just the nature of growing older.
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With a gentle pressure, our lips met. his hands slipped more firmly about me, and i held myself back, not afraid, but wanting to feel everything slowly as i leaned in, tasting the wine on him, feeling the warmth of his body pressing into mine, breathing in our scents that were mingling and changing with the warmth. my hands rose to find his hair, and i relaxed into him as the silky strands brushed through my fingers. i wanted more, and i leaned into him as our lips moved against each other.
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