Mary’s grace…
He looked at him unfailingly. The round in his eyes stayed fixed, even when his subject would look away. His lips remained modest even with his responses. His subject, a graying man miles past his hill, has his undivided attention. I put myself in his place. To be stared at by those eyes, stark, blank but ironically, utterly warm, a moment that felt unquestionably sincere.
He begins to speak, commenting on a deed possibly done that somehow affects him. THe tone was cold, affected, yet detached. I can tell how professional the matter at hand is, yet, I cannot help not gaze at his eyes - and while his lips talked, how so much story unfolded in his eyes.
His face hosted a mild stubble framing his lips and climbing upwards to his ear. Atop his head is a clean buzz cut, that doesn’t get in the way of his face. The real attraction of course, was the eyes. The first thing I noticed. And the one thing I keep coming back to looking at him.
He sits at the table across ours, facing me. I’d like to think he’s intentionally facing me. Or maybe I intentionally faced him. I don’t mind. Doesn’t matter. I notice his arm make motions into his pocket, as he reached for his phone, I see his fingers. Long, boney, solid and satisfying. When I heard him speak, the softness sounded like a whisper that lingered about my right ear, crawling down my neck, into my shirt and down to pleasure.
But alas, the waiter gives them their bill and I knew I only have a few more moments with him. And he was on the phone. Just as his eyes wandered to some far corner of the room, he jumps right down and caught my timid glance. Contact.
I shy away. And when I looked back, he had just stood up. He reached for his bag walked by the door, and stood by it as his subject, possibly his office superior, walked out first. He looked so regal and sexy at the exact same time I hardly noticed wrinkles on his shirt or slacks. And as he walked past the windows and out of my sight, I cried faintly, “Just return my heart tomorrow.”
