he would stare

He would. And stare. And stare. And smile, his eyes twinkling, the apples of his cheeks rising, his beginnings-of-a-mustache twitching.

And I would smile, and stare into the black pools of his eyes.

And time would stop.

Or it seemed to, and how often we wished it would.

random memory #7

I wasn’t supposed to kiss him, but then I remembered the way his skin felt against my lips. I remembered the smell of him, just before we would touch. And I missed it.

So I did.

Besides, I thought I loved him.