I dream of you. You invade my nights, possess my days, grip my soul. When I wake, my first thoughts are of you. I look at the clock and begin the eternal countdown to the time we are together. I am yours.
I know what it is to taste you—earthy, base—you are all the sustenance I need and all the food I will ever want. To feel your silken warmth under my hands sends my blood racing yet soothes the static in my mind. When I come close to you and your smell, my heart pounds in my chest and I can barely hear the world around me through this internal clamor of anticipation. Your flesh caresses my eyes when I look down at you; my lips quiver as they lightly brush you.
I ask myself why I am obsessed with you. The answers flow from my mind quickly and numerous, blending together and swirling all around, confusing my logic and tilting my sense of balance. I know our time is brief and clandestine and I know that you will only be here while the leaves blaze and dance. I don’t know if you will be back, or if this visit will be the last. I cling to you and try to pull every sensual moment from this fragile time together. You hurt me and I know it, but still I am drawn to your ability to electrify my senses and, every time I walk away, I begin planning the moment of my return. I hope you will still be there but want you to be gone. Each encounter maybe the last. No one understands; they are all fools.
“That will be $2.06.”
“What?” Damn this intrusion into our private reality!
“Pumpkin spice cappuccino, right?”
“Oh, yes. Sorry.”
“That’s ok, hun, I like those things, too. Do you have your Speedy Rewards card?”
I hand her the red, white, blue, and black plastic along with three ones. Ninety-four cents clangs out of the change machine. She scans my card and a coupon spits out of the top of the register.
“Hey,” she says,” a free drink! Guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” She winks at me and I know she understands. She knows the power of you, she feels your viselike hold, she will see me tomorrow.