(the price of one...)
I can't help myself, I need to write something.
She has gone to meet her love--
someone she only sees sometimes,
a long-distance thing.
When she arrives, the room is lit low,
and he's on the phone with an important client, still in his suit.
She's bursting to talk to him--touch him--and does not mind waiting.
She paces for a moment, then sits.
Her hands shaking, she slides them under her thighs,
and rocks back and forth ever so slightly
from pure, adrenaline-based excitement.
She keeps her eyes on him the whole time...
not daring to breathe, for fear she'll miss the moment when he hangs up--
exiting that stiff and stark world and becoming present in her super-charged, giddy one.
His brow furrows, he holds firm on some point, in a low, authoritative voice.
His conversation drifts to small talk;
her heart sinks.
The sudden grinding of gears and shifting of weights inside her is so loud in her ears, that she doesn't notice him putting the phone down and walking toward her.
She blinks and he is his knees, arms around her, grinning like a fool.
Things may have changed, but not so much...