It was just as I'd imagined it would be. We all know how it goes even if we all have our own versions of the story. A chance encounter at a park, a bookstore, a coffee shop -- mine is at a 24-hour convenience store early in the morning before I head over to work. Like last Monday.
The stage was set. The curtains were drawn. All that needs done was to speak, but neither of us did. Not through voices at least. Our eyes did most of the talking, as did the way you stepped back slightly when I was standing behind you at the counter queue. Just as I'd imagined, your scent unlocked the same colors in my mind as it did in my fantasy. I shivered as the sensation of flowing water traveled through my body.
"You'll be late for work," my mind chided. I recoiled and heeded without question. Like a repentant child, and I am all too suddenly back on rock hard ground. I left the store with one last look, to which a smile was returned. But the chiming of the door sealed every possibility shut. And just as I'd imagined it would be, the fantasy was over.
My feet were heavy as I walked to the bus station. Many, many times I wanted to turn around, break into a run, and ask for a number -- a name, at least. It didn't happen. I got into the bus and sat on my usual seat. I had too many things disconnected, I thought. Too much of my circuitry was burnt out. It wouldn't have worked anyway, my mind insisted.
But I'm having enough of it. I should do this right the next time -- and there will be a next time. If not with the same person, then there will be another. I'm still young, no matter how much I convince myself otherwise. I deserve this, no matter how much I tell myself I don't.
It will be nice if it's going to be the same person, though, and in the same setting. He smelled lovely, and it was a convenient fantasy.
