The darkness was premature, and the overcast sky dashed any hopes of seeing the sunset, not that anyone was at leasure to admire it at the moment. Everyone was stuck in their own little corners of remembrance; too self-occupied to even give a cursory glance to the other people around--not that there were that many, anyways.
I was the same; too focused on my own thoughts to even wonder at the view of the city below.
And then you came to disturb me from myself. I felt annoyed at the thought of forcing myself to try to be social; I dislike small talks, especially with strangers.
You didn't seem too bothered by my defensive stance. Maybe you found it a challenge to engage me in conversation after my initial cold response.
And engage me, you did. It seemed like you know which topics to broach to get me to talk. To talk enough for me to agree at ordering wine, and extending the conversation further.
And then the rain started to fall, the raindrops obscuring our view of the city from the window beside our table. And our talk became more personal, more intimate. I wouldn't have believed that I would be able to comfortably talk about my life with a stranger. You exude that charm, that warmth.
It was getting late, later than I ever planned on staying at this place. I told you that I should go, and you didn't try to stop me. As I was standing, you mirrored my movements and stood in front of me. You looked me straight in my eyes. This is the first time our stares lingered that long.
You asked me for a hug. I reluctantly agreed.
Our bodies met and the weight of your arms felt good on my shoulders. The warmth of your breath brushed my cheeks and it felt right. You were whispering something just outside the midst of my hearing.
And then I woke up, still feeling your chest against mine.
I never got to hear what you last said. I feel like I should remember you, but I can't. And everything we talked about is fading away as dreams are wont to do.
Your hug is fading and I wanted more of it.
