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He stands by the window, counting the drops of rain falling down. The reflection of the moonlight on his naked skin sends midnight sparkles and a blush on my cheeks. From the bed with sheets soaked in his presence I can hear the beating of his vulnerable heart rimmed in arrogance, arrogance that he uses as a shield, but not here, not with me.

It hurts to have him so close, yet imaginary miles away. I can almost touch the sound of his voice, but I don’t. I am afraid if I do it he will disappear like a candle light on the end of a long night. I just listen to him telling me about Melita who had hazelnut eyes like mine and Kalliopi who possessed him with black, curly hair like mine.

About Dafni’s lips that he kissed thinking of me and Antigoni’s curves that he embraced only because they were perfect match with mine. And then there is a thunder. I want to go near him, but the cigarette he lights stops me five steps away and I hear him talking about Eirini who couldn’t forgive him about my name spelled after the “I love you” never meant for her …

He leaves the cigarette in the ash-tray and turns around to look for a reaction on my face. I want to confess about Ben and Alexis, about Todoris and Charlie, I want to verify his theory that we both have been looking for love elsewhere when love has been right here. Instead, I think about the few hours left with him, I walk those five steps to reach the best place on Earth, his arms.

Almost

©2013, B. T., All rights reserved

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