The first time it was a shock, a soft blue shock.
Blue sky on a dreary day, I remember quite well. His eyes, incredibly kind, meeting mine in an aquamarine moment of "Oh my god".
Months and months. I knew he was there every Monday, like a reliable smile. We never spoke, except for civilities exchanged by a retail worker and a customer. Right across the street, every Monday, ten to seven.
I tried to talk, but my words jumbled, and I ran for it. I ran circles around buildings, under the blue skies, blue as his eyes.
One day I sat down and read The Madman by Khalil Gibran. That day, the day of The Madman, I stood up and overcame fear. I watched him smoke his cigar. He may have watched me smoke my cigarettes. People came in and out. We spoke. And spoke. And laughed. And laughed.
All of a sudden it was seven o'clock.
Weeks went by. We got coffee. We sat on my couch. We watched reruns of The Big Bang Theory. We listened to music. We kissed, my hand in his soft hair, his hand on my leg.
One day I woke up with him beside me, my body bare and warm, small and tucked into the curve of him. Rain drizzled down outside. The record player played static. We breathed.
And yet all was quiet and perfect.
Blue sky on a dreary day, I remember quite well. His eyes, incredibly kind, meeting mine in an aquamarine moment of "Oh my god".
Months and months. I knew he was there every Monday, like a reliable smile. We never spoke, except for civilities exchanged by a retail worker and a customer. Right across the street, every Monday, ten to seven.
I tried to talk, but my words jumbled, and I ran for it. I ran circles around buildings, under the blue skies, blue as his eyes.
One day I sat down and read The Madman by Khalil Gibran. That day, the day of The Madman, I stood up and overcame fear. I watched him smoke his cigar. He may have watched me smoke my cigarettes. People came in and out. We spoke. And spoke. And laughed. And laughed.
All of a sudden it was seven o'clock.
Weeks went by. We got coffee. We sat on my couch. We watched reruns of The Big Bang Theory. We listened to music. We kissed, my hand in his soft hair, his hand on my leg.
One day I woke up with him beside me, my body bare and warm, small and tucked into the curve of him. Rain drizzled down outside. The record player played static. We breathed.
And yet all was quiet and perfect.
