Status: breathing
Collisione
collision two
Killian could remember her talking about lemurs and dark chocolate. “I hate the stuff,” she’d wrinkle her nose. “How does anyone eat that?” and he’d take a step besides her wearing his best grin that evening, trying to impress the lemur-loving girl.
“I happen to love how chocolate smells.”
It was the beginning of a beautiful play; all the empty characters brought to life by mindless culinary discussions. They both looked at each other and confessed something inside of them that would never reach the edge of their lips, yet still crowded the rim of their eyes.
She laughed. “If it happens to have olives in it, I’ll eat it.” And he’d be impressed because anyone hardly liked olives. Her out of the ordinary palate left him at a loss and he’d only be further immersed in that linguistic dance they quickly grew fond of.
“The name’s Alessa,” she spoke with a slight accent, the melody of her words foreign. “Nice to meet you.”
His fingers met hers and it was beautiful. “Killian.” He felt laughter boil inside his lungs. “And the pleasure is all mine.” They’d let go and converse about anything, all in a desperate feat to hear each other’s voice twirl around the air suspended above them. ‘Uh’s’ and ‘ah’s’ were considered symphonic masterpieces, the world beneath their feet smudged reminders of their individual existence. For a small moment they were both breathing in each other and that was enough.
They were wrong.
“I happen to love how chocolate smells.”
It was the beginning of a beautiful play; all the empty characters brought to life by mindless culinary discussions. They both looked at each other and confessed something inside of them that would never reach the edge of their lips, yet still crowded the rim of their eyes.
She laughed. “If it happens to have olives in it, I’ll eat it.” And he’d be impressed because anyone hardly liked olives. Her out of the ordinary palate left him at a loss and he’d only be further immersed in that linguistic dance they quickly grew fond of.
“The name’s Alessa,” she spoke with a slight accent, the melody of her words foreign. “Nice to meet you.”
His fingers met hers and it was beautiful. “Killian.” He felt laughter boil inside his lungs. “And the pleasure is all mine.” They’d let go and converse about anything, all in a desperate feat to hear each other’s voice twirl around the air suspended above them. ‘Uh’s’ and ‘ah’s’ were considered symphonic masterpieces, the world beneath their feet smudged reminders of their individual existence. For a small moment they were both breathing in each other and that was enough.
They were wrong.