Going to a distance.

The charisma of that midnight walk, the alluring silver moonlight turning the quiet boulevard to almost deep blue, magnificently against the dark sky. They sit on a bench at the leafy sidewalk, outside a café, silently alongside each other, their fingers brushing against each other softly, and neither of them, moving their hands away, nor spoiling it with words. The touch of hands sends a soft shiver, a feeling of being known and being protected, the unspoken promise, that I am right here. She adores the subtle tilt of his head and the side of his shoulder gently stroking her head, when someone passes by, which he does, to make sure that she keeps safe. They are truly smitten, like they have just met. Like a new relationship.

Stealing glances, yet looking at each other when another one is absent-mindedly ordering a coffee or talking about something, mesmerized at the profoundness of feelings that fills their heart and soul. Their imagination dances to the melody of rustling leaves in the cold breezy night, which intensifies their togetherness. They stay engrossed in each other beyond the presence of anyone around them.

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There is nothing else that she holds onto so closely, other than the smile that he has on his face when he beholds her. When their eyes meet, in between, the conversations, the world stops to wait for them to move on to the next moment. And just as the late-night café starts to dim their light and clean their bars, they realize it’s late, and they start to walk back. Between him extending his arms to embrace her and her leaning her head on his shoulder, they reach home.

The feeling of wholeness, the time well spent. They feel each other’s heartbeat as they nod off, she softly adjusts her head next to his chest, held by him and he assured by the fact that this is everything that they want right now. This moment is perfect in itself.

Every beautiful dream ends, and dawn comes. He will have to leave. So they pretend like its fine with a morning kiss. It’s okay until they meet again. After all, this is what they had chosen, long long ago and happily so. A life where love of an eternity can be felt in a moment and a promise so pure that only he and she could comprehend it.

And the day starts in a normalcy, she closes the door after the sound of his steps goes faint and eventually disappears, and looks at the clock. As usual, she is running late for work. She did not want to spend a single second doing something else when he was there. He would always scold her to be on time at work. She would skip this, knowing they both have their reasons to do what they do.

Funny that this has become a habit now. How she fights with him day and night to plan the next visit, right after he leaves. How easy it is for us to manipulate someone who loves us.

The long week has to start now. Evenings are the hardest. Weirdly enough, she doesn’t get accustomed to his absence even though they are away almost all the time. But one weekend they spend together and bam! She can’t go to the bed, without searching for his hand there. And she looks at his side of the bed, which is empty. She turns around and sighs. She has to make it through the distance, at the same time, there is a schedule, a routine that wouldn’t take care of itself, so she decides to carry on, with the memory of embracing his hand and drifting off to sleep.

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