He slipped behind her with a slow, brisk side step meant to tantalize her. The origin of the desire was unknown to them both, but as Mingus played and kitchen sink water clumsily splashed about half washed dishes they quietly decided to let stabbing reality remain hidden in its safe pressure chamber. She felt his energy swirl around her even though she didn’t see his face. She always felt him. The marigold man made of goodness, wrapped in enigma, tickled the hairs on her arms. She loved him then. He whispered hello in her ear as he passed by. “Hello” could have been “mustard” or “pickle” and the chosen melody would have brought her to her knees. His voice…..her ear….. made her stomach pirouette. It made her mind melt. He didn’t know the effect he had on her heart, or maybe he did.
She loved him then, when the realities were hidden and the fantasy of life together- whispering in ears and washing dishes- was still being written; still being played with as the beats rolled on.
She knew him now. She loved him still.