A Smile


    A laugh pulls me from my broken day dreams. Fantasy falls into shadow, and reality fades in. Slowly, my focus returns and my gaze shifts.

    The laugh is soft and comforting. Little bursts of air escaping perfect lips. I let it's joy envelope me.

    Smiling, I let out a little laugh.

    My gaze comes to rest on the shoulder of the one laughing. It moves in short bursts, matching the sound of the laughing. The movements draw me in. There is great beauty in form and motion.

    Without consciously thinking, part of my mind traces the movement, looking for weaknesses, while another part converts the movement into lines and shadow to draw from. Consciously I turn off those routines and allow myself to simply enjoy the form before me.

    I begin to relax and mentally trace the elegant form before me. Shadow and light flicker across their body as the flame of the candle jumps in the slight breeze. I see the muscles fire in their body, while subconsciously mimicking the most graceful of them, with tiny imperceptible movements.

    My eyes drop down to their hands sitting comfortably on the table. I follow the contours of them as they lead to the fabric of sleeves. The fabric sits loosely on their bent arms. A wrinkle snakes through the clothe and flows into the bend of the arm.

    I talk and then they talk, then more laughter. The tops of their arms, and shoulders bounce again with the laughter, and they lean a little closer. Smiling, I look away, still listening.

    I try and let my attention slip, but I can't seem to escape. My eyes return to the person in front of me. As I focus, I catch a glimpse of their face, just the edge, but still enough. Feelings flood in, and my heart beats faster.

    I try and pull away. Watching the bubbles rise, I peer deep into my dark drink. It's a cold drink, somewhat refreshing, but mostly just familiar. Sitting there, it's my distraction, my known variable in the chaos of the world around me.

    Muscles flex. I mentally note which ones flex and in what order they flex, as I reach for the drink. My hand tightens and I pick it up. Tendons and muscles work together. The cold dead weight gives me something to focus on. Slowly, my heart relaxes. Moving the glass to my lips, I take a sip. I'm not really thirsty, but it's something I can easily focus on.

    Now somewhat calm, I put the glass down. Light images, ghosts, dance around the glass's edge. People moving , talking, socializing. For once, I'm glad they're there. For once, I'm glad I'm not alone.

    More conversation takes place. I stare at my glass and focus on movements as I talk, trying to escape my thoughts and feelings. The more I run, the more, trapped within myself, I feel.

    My eyes drift to their lips as more words are spoken. Again my heart races. Slowly, consciously, I force my eyes to close and shift down. When they reopen, I see only the table. Tracing the line of the wood in front of me, I allow myself to return to a calm state.

    The wood is smooth. I run my fingers lightly over it. A light vein catches my eye and I allow my middle finger to run across it. Little bumps and notches bounce my finger slightly. For the moment I'm lost in the form. Involuntarily, I smile.

    The vein runs through my arm, down my back, and around my hips and legs. Happily, I embrace its movement. It's free, without concern, and I find comfort in it.

    My attention returns to my environment as I realize what I'm doing and stop my movement. I take a slow deep breath and continue the conversation. My heart again beats at it's regular pace. The corners of my eyes catch the movement around me, and my ears focus on the voice in front of me. Tempting. Inviting.

    Murmuring voices around me drop away. Only one voice matters right now, only one sound can be heard. The voice forms a question and sings it in my ear, like a sirens sweet call.

    Instinctively, I look up. I catch the thin outline of their nose leading up to their eyes. Our eyes catch. Suddenly there is no outside world. There is only the beautiful soul in front of me. We sit there for a lifetime, before I force my gaze away.

    As I look away, I notice my heart is beating strong steady strokes, a bit faster than normal, but still steady. I lean back in my chair and respond. They listen and ask another question.

    This time I force myself to look at them with the edges of my eyes. My heart still beats strong, racing a little, but it's not completely distracting. I answer with a little smile. Something was implied in the answer, a joke of some sort. This relaxes me a little.

    Reaching cautiously forward, I again pick up my drink. Watching my reflection, I bring it to my lips. The cool liquid dampens my top lip. Out of habit, I wipe my top lip dry with my lower lip. I feel skin caress skin. My mind jumps.

    Warm breath. Soft skin. Fingers tracing curves. Bodies pressed together. Flashes of feelings, images, sensations. My head jerks a little to the side as I snap myself back to reality.

    They continue to talk. In the corner of my eye, I see they're looking down at the table. Putting my glass down, I allow my eyes to study their form. Then they look back up. This time I avoid the eyes and focus on the drink I'm placing on the table.

    It hits the table a little hard than I wanted it to.

    Clunk.

    My hand steadies it, brushing against it's edge. The curve of glass flows into the curve of my hand which then creates the curve of my arm. My back and waste follow in suit. The motion is same motion used to move someone's hip. I feel my mind slipping again. Mentally I acknowledge the shape, the feeling, the memories, but this time I don't let them overcome me.

    The voice draws me to it again. I turn my attention towards them. This time I steel myself and look into their eyes, and what beautiful eyes they are. They're kind and soft and full of life. Their familiarity comforts me and I allow myself to look briefly into their soul.

    They smile and brush back a piece of hair. I smile and listen. The movement before me plays out in a fluid grace. Internally, my hand traces their face. They laugh, and I laugh, truly happy for a short while. All my concerns and worries flow away.

    I relax in my chair, as they continue to talk, eventually looking away. I watch as their hand traces the movement of an emotion. Its lively flittering makes me smile, and I look back at my drink.

    Time continues on and we grow more comfortable with each other. The conversation gets more lively and our forms dance together. We laugh together, we lean forward, we lean back, like a primitive dance.

    I enjoy the flow, the take and give which continues on. Eventually too much time has passed. Our lives call to us and we must leave. I don't want it to end, but it must, as all good things eventually do. We get the bill and talk for a little more.

    As we talk, they brush against me. My mind flickers. Warm skin exploring warm skin. Unexpected and expected feelings. Caressing muscles. Familiar scents. The warmth of another near, but not in contact. Hot breath. Short breaths. Deep longing.

    I force myself to reality again, knowing that nothing was meant by the contact. I again smile, and we get up together to leave.

    As we walk through the doors, we say goodbye. I long to ask them to stay, but I know the answer. I've asked before. It's understood. A good day with a friend is still worth a lot. As we part ways, I again say goodbye and smile a little smile. They return the smile and we walk our separate ways.