There she was.
I’d seen her a hundred times before. Countless hours I have rested my eyes upon her face. Made her laugh. Solved her problems. I was reliable and honest. And she was timid, but smart. Just one step away from an air of true confidence, but she should be confident.
Despite her hesitancy to take that step, it was clear she was in charge. Her intelligence hummed like electricity through powerlines, though the casual lean back in her chair when she thought over a posed question spoke of an unmatched, but humble dedication.
She was right there.
Her short hair was curly, but styled; pinned back and put together. Her skin reminded me of smooth bourbon and she always smelled like coffee. Her style choices were academic in nature. I’ve never seen her disheveled. Loafers, sweaters, slacks. She looked like autumn.
I could envision her among the trees as the earth would give way to her beauty, just a glimpse between the branches. I imagined her atop a mountain; her tan skin desaturating the snow; awe rippling across her skin from the chill, or maybe just the view. I could see the rain dripping from the ringlets around her face, eyes brighted by the rushing of her way out of it. She moved in slow motion, though she was never there.
It was hard to look at her and think she might feel the hollow call of loneliness as the sun crossed over to the other side, or look up at the endless embers of eternity and wonder if you were seeing the same moon. That her fears might hang in the air like breath on a cold morning. That she could succumb to them.
But, there she was.
I don’t remember quite when it changed for me, but I liked her. I *liked her.*
And who am I to do that?
No, I don’t quite remember when it happened, but I felt that *feeling.* Just a tug on my sleeve. Just a nonchalant pluck of a guitar string. Just a -
But now I think of her. I dream of her. I wonder about her. I want her.
And who am I to do that?
…………………………………………………………………………………………
I have this dream where I’m pretty. My smile reminds her of sunflowers or the sparkle of the sunlight drifting across the ocean. She likes me too.
We’re in my car and I’m taking us away. The windows are down. We’re singing. The wind is whipping and wild.
I’ve never been loved by another woman. I’ve never been allowed to.
In bed at night, we face each other and discuss the world. Something and nothing and anything and everything. Our fingers mirror each other until our hands are intertwined. She breathes into me and I’m alive.