The maid hadn't left yet. He told me this in a whispered voice, "I don't really care." I smile. I was happy to see him. His shirt was missing a button and yet he was looking like he always did, clean. I, on the other hand, always feel scruffy. But I had taken care to dress up well for this morning. He was leading me towards the chair by the window. There was construction going on in the building next door. I pretended to be interested in that.
All the while I was aware of him walking around the room in his slippers. They were hitting the back of his feet and making a noise. He went into the kitchen to admonish the maid. He re-emerged back into the room and asked me if I wanted something to eat. Or drink, maybe, he asks, when I said no. He doesn't drink himself but he liked to watch me drink. I suspected he liked to see my cheeks turn pink when I drink too much.
I wanted to tell him that I felt a little drunk already. But I was afraid that it would sound too corny and so I smiled again to myself. He wanted to know why I am smiling. He came to sit across from me and reached out to cradle my face. I was smiling again. He took a deep breath in. I didn't answer as I was watching his mouth as he spoke. And then I looked at his eyes and his jaw line.
If it was possible to fall in love with moments -- many, different moments - then this would be one such moment. The skies seemed to open up as I watched him. I could be flying. I wanted to reach out and touch him. He stood up and waited a moment. The sun was in my eyes now and I looked up to him and through the gap where the button was missing. I could see his bare stomach. He smiled a very, very small smile. His cheeks were blushing. I was sure mine were pink.
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