A smile that leads to a blush. You turn away to escape my gaze and hide your embarrassment. Like a drapery, your strawberry hair is drawn across your face. You slide your hand across and slip your fingers between mine. A small step. Too afraid to look at each other, we just look down at our hands, together. Something fresh, new, exciting. Nervous. I want to tell you how I feel. I open my mouth, but my breath dies before it reaches my lips. We break our grasp.
Later, we share a cigarette and that is when I know that this isn't real.