A taphouse in the middle of the city on random Friday evening. People came here to forget about the outside world and let go of everything they were dealing with when the sun lit up the world a few hours ago. The darkness shooed them to the bar. Nothing special, yet so magical.
My fingertips stuck to the coke that spilled over the left side of the table. The air was stuffy, and smoke billowed through the room just to get caught in my ebony hair.
A business man hypnotized his whiskey on ice, enjoying the evening in his suit. His attaché case sat on the table, waiting for him to continue whatever work he did before.
Glass bottles clinked. Drinks were poured. A girl next to the window laughed about something her friend said.
I didn’t notice any of that.
All I perceived was the dusty smell of your perfume, the glistening in your eyes and the beating of my own, desperate heart that wanted to touch yours so badly. If you only knew the way your eyes held a whole treasure that felt like it was made just for me. A wonderland for me to conquer.
The coke on my fingers tasted so sweet when I bit my nails down to the quick. My other hand was holding the sticky bottle using it as an anchor in the deep sea of emotions I have been drowning in since you came into my life.
I won’t ever let you go. At least my heart won’t.
Life hasn’t been the same. You brought a million different colors, exciting adventures and so much joy with you when you decided to become a part of my little existence. Every second I spent with you holds a special place in my heart.
Raindrops fell on the roof, creating some sort of melody I would keep singing until my dying day to take me back to that random Friday evening.
My thoughts impended to take me away to somewhere else when I swiftly felt your lips touching mine.
The world stopped for a split second and everything went quiet.
You. And me. In a small taphouse. In the blink of an eye, you and me united in a moment of pure love. Us. In a small taphouse. Together.
I guess that Friday evening wasn’t that random after all.
© Karen Anja Junkermann 2024-03-10