Love Is Fucking Important

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LOVE IS FUCKING IMPORTANT Rodrigo, the graffiti artist, spray painted on the side of the bridge. He thought the bridge the perfect spot to hit; he loved the metaphor of the bridge connecting people to his message of love. He wanted to stand and admire his handiwork, but, knew it was dangerous to hang around a dripping wet work, holding a can of spray-paint, so, off he went to find his next urban canvas.

Two minutes later, Javier and Alejandra came across Rodrigo’s words.

“Yeah, love is fucking important,” Javier said, before taking Alejandra by the waist and giving her the kiss of her life. It was their first kiss, and it would be their best. They should have broken up right after, cause, they would go through four years of dating and three years of marriage searching for its magic, before calling it an illusion, giving in and breaking up.

Seconds after Javier had taken Alejandra’s hand, leading her back to his house to have sex, (though, they would think they were making love,) Felipe stopped in front of the words, and started to cry.

”Love is fucking important! I know that, why doesn’t she?’  Tears blurred the graffiti. Paint dried faster than the salt on his cheeks.

A minute later, Frida, Consuelo and Diego stopped by the bridge to watch the sunset slip behind the skyline. Consuelo was first to read the graffiti. “Love is fucking important.”

Frida hadn’t yet seen the message Consuelo was quoting, and thought her friend was working up the nerve to confess her feelings for their friend, Diego. Frida decided she’d help her friend.

“Consuelo likes you, Diego.”

“Frida!”

“It’s true. She does. She always has.”

“I was reading the sign! I wasn’t-”

“What sign? Oh. Sorry.”

Diego, stood awkwardly, wanting to change the subject. But, being fifteen and knowing nothing but football, he didn’t know what to say. He tried, “Pele won more Cups than Maradona.” Then the three teenagers stood in the uncomfortable gloaming, watching the sun take its last breath behind the silhouettes of the buildings.

Deep in those shadows, Rodrigo, the graffiti artist was 3/4 through spray painting his next message, when he was stopped and handcuffed by a pair of burly police officers. They bundled the vandal into their police car and drove to the station leaving the message: LOVE IS FUCKING.

The first group of boys by whooped and hollered at the message.

“That’s right, man! Love is fucking! Absolutely!” The boys cheered, all of them virgins.

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