He was known to travel but her eyes took him places he had never experienced; and after the first trip, he never wanted to let go. He wanted her. Sometimes he would find himself staring, looking for an imperfection. A flaw to hold on to. Something to keep him in the reality that she wasn’t perfect. He could never find anything. She knew he was staring, but she knew why. She knew the stare as it was. She had seen it before many times; but, this one was a little different. (She hated to admit) He was open, she could see that. He was also willing - something she also picked up within the first few moments of their brief encounter. However, she wasn’t looking for an adventure, a good time, and especially not a prince charming to come sweep her off her feet. She was comfortable where she stood, alone. She was comfortable coming home to her house where her towels were where she had left them. People associate being alone with being lonely. She knew how to distinguish the two. She was scared though. A thought that dwelled only in the mists of her unconscious; where it was left to never be acknowledged. What if she was to fall in love? They say you never know if you like something if you never try it. Well, that was exactly what she was avoiding. A taste. She couldn’t look in his eyes any longer. She excused herself with a sincere excuse that he found the only thing sincere about it was the attempt to leave. That didn’t stop her from walking out; leaving him there, willing and open.
I guess this is where it all starts.
That morning air.
The first night.