It was there in the stacks I found him
in the Purple Room of the world's largest
bookstore, in the section on Christianity.
I was searching for Lewis, and passed him,
crouching in the center of the aisle, three
times. Each time, his head rose as I passed.
I should have asked him to help me, but my
need for self-sufficiency reigned. I found Lewis only a
few feet from where he perused the Inspiration selection.
I could not stare without being noticed, so I saw his profile
in my peripheral. His skin, chocolate and smooth,
unlined. His eyes, dark; his brow furrowed;
body lean and muscular. He walked over next
to me to look at L'Engle, while I moved down slightly
to Miller. I felt electricity leap off him and snap me,
a gravitational pull that drew me near to him without
a single motion. All I had to do was lean toward him,
whisper what I was looking for; maybe he could help.
But I had nothing to say, nothing
at all, so I walked away.
I like this piece.
ReplyDeleteIt's been fun to catch up on some of your writing. Reminds me of the good old days in Chapters.
And I'm so proud of you for being so consistent! I've been SERIOUSLY lagging on the writing front (as in, have not written anything, other than my application to Oxford, since graduation). You're inspiring me to start again, but we shall see. Maybe once school gets out . . .
Thanks, Karith. That means a lot. I really respect your writing opinion, and I miss those Chapters writing session.
ReplyDeleteDo write! It's hard to get started, but once you do, that ball just keeps rolling. Your writing is beautiful. Go for it...maybe once school gets out... :)
I hope you're well. Miss you, dear friend.