The sun found its way around the curves and crevices of the building. As if it knew – it gave you a spotlight while you walked down the pavement. Your short hair around your shoulders swayed ever so slightly. You were wearing this leather skirt that touched the back of your calves and a purple turtleneck
sweater that hugged you comfortably. You had two bags of groceries – were clutched in your gloved grasps while you carefully stayed out of the way.
You wore red lipstick that afternoon. The redness in your cheeks looked like they were from the cold rather than the rose shade you brushed on this morning. It looked more natural. The crinkles by your eyes when you narrowed them from the rays told me you were no older than twenty-seven. Your lips – a
firm line in this pleasant afternoon, so I wondered what made you look like that. Perhaps it was the snow that was starting to fall on the gravel; or maybe the old man that accidentally bumped you a few meters back. Whatever it was that made you so grumpy, I wanted to be the one that got rid of it.
My eyes travelled to your peeling, black boots to the single mole on your wrist, the scar ebbed on your collarbone, up to the single strand of brown hair that deviated from the rest atop your head. You were getting closer to me, and my chest hummed a longing for you. My legs were locked in place, nervous to approach you. My mouth was searching for words my brain couldn’t seem to deliver – so an incoherent mumble of words jumped right out. You noticed me. I wanted to tell you that I noticed you first, and that this could all have been a funny encounter, but I don’t.
Instead, I studied you.
I go back to the windows of your soul, and the darkness in them were the perfect contrasts to your light. You wouldn’t look away, and I sure as hell would never dare. Your amusement quickly turned into curiosity, begging to ask the question of who I am and what I can do. The twinkle in your eyes gave you away, and I did the same. TURN PAGE >>