A Brief Scene from Two Lovers

She looks at him, holding his gaze, and then looks away, down at the floor, eyes glinting nervously, cheeks flushed; a smile warming her face, warping that previous blankness into shape. And he looks back at her, then down at his feet coquettishly, pleased – embarrassed. He raises his head, waiting for her eyes to once again burn into the back of his skull, and his mouth slowly ripens into a grin, stretching from ear to ear.

                But they are not in the same room: they are lost lovers, on opposite sides of the world. Everywhere he goes, walking alone, he is holding her hand. He holds on so tight. Sometimes, when it’s cold, his hands turn blue – and so he knows she’s squeezing back, and the space of air beside him briefly warms, filling with her life.