Random writing until the first character short

Love is?

     At this moment, nothing mattered to him aside of the task that lay ahead.  This was all very new to him and he had to perform particularly well or she would never respect him.  He woke up this morning with his sheets and pillows saturated with sweat.  He walked to the full length mirror that stood against the wall across from his bed and gave himself a pep talk, “You have to show her that this is the one thing that you can do.  She has to know that you’re worth something.”  He never thought that he would reach this level of intimacy with her at such a young time in their relationship but his brother had done it young so why shouldn’t he?    

     Although he had hours to carry this out, he kept remembering this had to happen before his mother and father returned home from work.  He moved about his house frenzied.  He placed flowers and a handwritten note into the crook of the teddy bear’s folded arms that he bought for her yesterday. 

     Anxiety had found an easy home in him.  He smelled of dank sweat and fear.  He sat in the chair at the dining room table naked and sweating.  His knees bounced frantically to a rhythm played out by the butterflies in his stomach.  He ignored the clock on the wall and periodically checked his arm for the watch that was not there.  His current feelings were pitted against his religious beliefs of what constitutes a sin.  At times he paced back and forth at the front door as he waited for the knock that would alleviate this built up tension that seemed to be devouring him.  His muscles felt shaky and weak and tense all at once.  Where is she?  He screamed in his head.  Panic began to speak in riddles to him.  He felt his senses leaving and wondered if this date would even happen.  Then he heard it, that glorious, gentle knock at the door.  He ran to the peep-hole and felt his heart pounding like a rhino trapped in a Volkswagen.

“Gimme one second,” he yelled as he ran to his room to retrieve the teddy bear and his supply bag.  He put the teddy bear on the floor and reached into his supply bag and withdrew a nickel-plated .25 caliber pistol then unlatched the safety.

     He unlocked the door, took a few steps back and pressed the nozzle of the pistol to his temple.  “Come on in,” he yelled.  He could hear his beads of sweat hitting the floor like buck shots. When she opened the door she was staggered by the smell.  Then she screamed when she saw him standing there naked and sweaty and ready for suicide.

“If I can’t have you then I don’t want to live without you,” were his final words.