Blush ♥
It smells of wet dogs and rotting vegetation when it rains here, none of the fresh sweet earth smell. The world literary comes alive when it rains; even death is a part of life. So it smells of life. The rain is beating hard at the window pane; I look away as I catch a word.
She is saying something or the other but I cannot seem to concentrate. I am conscious of her brown velvety neck. So close but I cannot touch. I can see it rise and fall, a small vein throbbing across, blood coursing though. I imagine what her scent would be and find myself struggling to smell her. Valley of lily, faint and intimate.
I conclude that there is subdued recklessness about her. When she smiles the top and bottom of her set of teeth show and a pale pink gum reveals so unflatteringly. This is how her inner organs would look like pale and gleaming with wetness. I wonder what she would think of me if I were to pronounce this apercu.
I can feel her thigh or the layers of cloth over it.
Did she move closer?
I think she is flirtting with me unknowingly. I cross my legs.
