The Secret of Fire
DescriptionI was supposed to be taking notes. I wish I could copy over the fancy cursive I had used for the title.
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I had been waiting for this moment for years. Our breath became clouds and mingled in the air. Her lilac eyes were focused on me and begged me to hurry. Her teeth, freshly separated from tight braces, gently gnawed her soft pink lips. Our faces were a finger-length apart. Thump went my heart repeatedly. From behind her blossoming chest the sound came back, sung from a different voice. I could faintly smell the rose I had playfully hung in her hair this morning. Neither of us laughed, as we had this morning. Her fingers found mine absently and gripped them tightly. The moon was bright and full that October night. We were in her backyard, not far from her pool, and costumed kids were running around with bags of candy and, a few, with eggs for those who displeased them. I made my move. Nothing was stopping me. All wind stopped for the first time in hours; the very air was holding its breath for us. Those same kids had finished with the street and were gone. No others would be around for a few seconds. The sun was down, but the streetlights hadn't come on yet; like the kids, they were giving us just a few seconds that existed elsewhere, in a perfect world. My fingers left hers so my arms could wrap around her. Her plain clothes made her look all the more beautiful, like placing a weed next to that rose, tangled in her tumbling and twisted brown hair. There was a brief flash as her strange purple eyes closed. Her head tilted to the side, mine to the other. Our lips pressed together and, for a few seconds, we were almost in heaven. Our hearts beat faster. The lights came on, the kids rounded the corner, the breeze lifted again, and we were completely oblivious.