Dandelions transform into bubbles hovering just slightly above the grass. The wind runs its gentle touch through her hair, while the rest of her brown tresses fall just below her shoulders, slowly grazing the edges of skin and bone. A sigh escapes through her teeth. She misses him more each and everyday they do not see each other. The girl continues to run. Run towards her happiness. Run away from her worries and uncertainties that were left at home. And run to waste time today to see him hopefully tomorrow. The sun bears a constant reminder of the warmth she feels only around him. She keeps her eyes fixed towards the sky and realizes she is not alone. Sweat runs down her face. She heads home.
The consistent hello's and goodbye's of the day are finally concluded. She counts her eyelashes until she makes it up to 75 hairs that stand alone on one eye. She counts the rest. I bet he knows how many eyelashes she has. Maybe, maybe not. Strong, passionate tension stirs when they look at each other vis a vis. All he ever wants to do is hold me and to smell every inch of skin covered in perfume. I stroke his black locks and intertwine them in my elongated fingers. Our lips touch and a spectrum of sensations flow in and out of me. I gasp. Firm arms wrap her like a present and...sigh. He must know every crevice of her face by now. Does he? Questions arise throughout the night while waiting by the phone. He misses her. I know he does. Why is it only Wednesday? Thursday will be our day...he told me on Monday it would. Yawn. Oh well, she will hear from him tomorrow...I suppose.