I still remember the first time I saw you.
You looked completely fearless under the April sun – unkempt hair, untied shoelaces and everything in between. With a sleight of hand, you unveiled a chunky piece of gold from your pocket – it danced with sunlight as you used it to light the cigarette dangling between your lips.
I’d never have imagined the embodiment of nonchalance to use a Dupont lighter.
You had your back to me and I could see just enough of your profile to make out a smattering of freckles upon a crooked nose.
“Turn around,” I thought.
Did I speak out loud? The words were meant as a sensual whisper, a secret – but the wind seemed to carry them straight into your ears as you slowly turned my way.
I held my breath as our gazes met. Your green eyes suspended me across time and space – nothing existed but you and I.
You blinked once, then twice.
The world started to come back into focus behind you as impatient drivers honked their cars from behind tinted windows. Our fleeting bond ceased to exist as fast as it had been formed, as you turned to cross the street and tore your green eyes from my wide ones. I watched, dumbfounded, while your lanky legs took you into some unknown adventure and freed me from your grip.