A Relationshop Begins

From downstairs, the noise appears again. She listens for the footsteps leading on the stairs to her sixth floor walk up. Seeing the doorknob turn ever so slightly, will he assume she is sleeping, and let himself in?   She is too well heeled to get up and let him in, so she closes her eyes, and waits for the turning of the doorknob.

The door begins to open, and conversely she once again, replays scenes in her head, of the wine, the bar, the music,  the sex, the meeting in Paris where they established both the familiar and the unfamiliar of one another. She ordered the fish cooked in garlic, he ate from her fork. Already she had decided then, to go beyond the first page with him. Now here she was, in her sixth floor walk up, waiting for the doorknob to open, for the turning of yet another page in their story.

It will begin with wine, and end in sweat, and his fingers will trace the outline of her face.  A portrait in time, in the morning, she will sigh, and he will leave to catch the metro. She will drink coffee, running her hands down along her body, covered in vibrations of seated emotion, and he will smile politely at everyone he passes along the street.

Eventually, they will make promises.

Eventually, we all, always make promises, to partners who were once perfect strangers to us, and, now, they become our lives!