Maybe one day you’ll read this and wonder…
We met in a small village, I served beer behind the bar at the local pub and you drank diet coke when you were driving. We had about 30 years between us that fizzled into nothing when we bemused ourselves with local gossip. I mean there was clearly an age difference, I was young and trying to prove myself, you were older and utterly delectable.
I like to think there was always something. You told me about your past, your divorce, your children. I told you how good of a man you were and always smiled when you came in, even if I tried to hide it. And there was always that moment of suspense at the end of the night, when we looked at one another and knew that it was another evening done. Or at least I did, even though it was only a heartbeat. I fantasized that one day we’d come across one another, alone and noone would turn up. One day I’d have the courage to step closer and let you smell the perfume I wore for you. I’d stand too close, we’d cross the boundaries we’d built after so long and finally, finally the dam would break.