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By wistful Date: 2004 Jul 17 Comment on this Work [[2004.07.17.10.21.21134]] |
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They sat there, together, laughing so easily, as they always did. It was late, he should go, and yet they lingered, basking in the warmth of a friendship only ex-lovers can share. He had been cajoling her out of a funk of a recent breakup, and it was working beautifully. And as the laughter subsided, she looked at him and suddenly, embarrassed, looked away. "What is it?" he asked. "Nothing", she replied with a little shake of her head, and started to stand up. "No, tell me" he insisted, grabbing her arm and gently pulling her back down. They held each others arms, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Finally, she looked up, and stared directly into his eyes. The corners of her lips turned up in the smallest smile of chagrin. "It's just that, sometimes, I have a hard time not kissing you." she admitted. He gazed at her in that penetrating way that garnered so many admirers, and drove so many others away. "Sometimes I have a hard time not kissing you too", he returned, after a few moments of silence. They sat there together, contemplating the various fates that follow such statements. He thought about the woman waiting for him at home, whom he loves. She thinks about the woman waiting for him, who is so good for him, and loves him so much. "But it probably wouldn't be a good idea." he said, cautiously. The corners of her mouth tweaked upwards again. "No, it wouldn't." And the moment passed. When he left half-an-hour later, sometime around 2:30am, he gave her the briefest friend-kiss at the door. As she closed the door behind him, she sighed, and smiled, and thought, "How nice to have a friend like that." |