“Can I hold your hand as the music lingers away and leaves us in a sense of romance?” That’s what I wanted to say but how overly poetic that would sound if I actually said it aloud to her.
“What are you contemplating over there?” her voice whispered out to me as I turned myself around to face her emerald eyes and hazel locks.
“I’m thinking about what I should write.” Her smile brightens the room like a ray of sunlight passing through the lofty windows to announce a new sunrise.
“I love your pondering face Mon amour.” I smile and continue to draft out ideas that keep me up all night as she passes by.
I remember the day I had first met her in the café de la soire on a rainy Parisian morning. I hadn’t planned on going out that day nor did I plan on meeting anyone. I had prepared myself for a quiet morning of no chit chat but as soon as her scent of sweet floral essence mixed with husky wood passed by me followed by a giggle that would make anyone smile I couldn’t stop or help myself from being intrigued. She had lost one of her students and wondered in soaking wet but filled with joy as she found the little kid staring down at a collection of fresh pastries.
As soon as she turned and smiled in my direction I knew that there would be no chance for me to even know her.
You know that feeling you get when you see somebody that’s just way out of your league and you don’t want to waste a breath trying to attempt to get their attention. But apparently my interest of books and especially those of much unknown authors drew her to me.
“Are you a fan?” her soft voice asked me as I placed the raggedy book down.
“I’m a fan this is my third book of his I love.” I responded unsurely. She laughed and smiled.
“That’s very good taste you have, I love his writing. I have his fourth book if you’d like to borrow it?” she asked me making me feel less of a fool for liking something that many thought to be unworthy of any attention.
There I was the anti-social talking to the most beautiful person in the room about an author few people found to be ridicules and most didn’t even know existed. I remember her giving me her phone number on an old card of hers quickly as she grabbed her student and rushed out back into the rain only to disappear into the misty dark morning leaving me a glow…