As I turn my face at his passing, he sees me blush, which I see in my reflection in the glass door as I pass through the entry. His hair catches the light from the soft glow of the dim lights and he draws his glass to his mouth to drink deeply, his elbow rising and falling. I move to him and he pauses in mid air to tilt his head towards me. He knows I am behind him, and he knows how fast my heart is beating, that I cannot breath. He ceases speaking and he turns to me and his eyes flash, filled with desire. And I will never know, as long as I live, how I came to lift my hand and touch his face.
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