User Review( votes)
written by: Alexa Cleasby
We're driving away from the sun. Your hand is on the gear stick. I take turns watching the shifting hills and the way your fingers move. The way your face changes as you talk.
Our eyes meet and I'm all that you see.
Our eyes meet and this moment merges. It judders and skips, blending until it bleeds.
Our eyes meet and yours are grey and then blue and then brown and soon green. Amused creases line the edges as these warm shining eyes stare me down like there is no one more perfect.
And your smile expands to hold others, three, or maybe is it four? Teeth, lips and jawlines are mixing memories like brush strokes across a page.
Your hand reaches over to rest on my knee. And another hand follows and another. Ink stained, short nails, bitten nails, calluses, long fingers, fine blond hairs and then dark. But always that same gentle weight and squeeze.
This moment merges with so many others. For an instant, I see them all. Moments that were all mine, beautiful and unrealised. Moments that are lost to me now, but still clear as skies reflected in still water.
Soon it untangles and time reasserts itself. Unbleed the paper and snapping back like elastic. Nothing holds time so tightly. Each thread flows free and continues. And I finally understand.
I am back in this moment and it is just you and me and nowhere else I’d rather be. Your hand on my knee and those morning green eyes.
The winter sun is soft at our backs, melting like wax from the sky, and we're driving home.