Nineteen again

Taking her for a dinner and it goes on a bit longer than expected. Having a laugh, a small laugh really, perhaps to hide a feeble uneasiness; a mix of anxiety and excitement, something one can feel when they see their ex after a long time and they get along. To a degree, 'course.

I'm seeing her off, remembering the way and remembering the details. I'm some ten years older, meaning so is she, nevertheless those years are non-existent tonight. The warmth of the moment?

Maybe I'm only re-living the experience that never happened.

Here we are. She's almost gone. And then she lingers, turning in the door, coming back and kissing me good night. Yet it takes a split second longer than proper. Does she know? I certainly do.

And then — one can feel a gentle trace of hesitance — or rather a fight between her senses and consciousness — running through her face in a flash, taking a mere heartbeat.

And I am in, the door bangs behind us, unnecessary clothing is flying through the hall. And I'm nineteen again.

Wake up, wake up, wake up! Beware! Such things are reserved for dreaming.