something about nothing
There was a time before, how there somtimes are times before.
The food was barely touched, but the drinks were heavy.
At a glance there was obviously something between them.
"The eyes never lie", he says.
They make small talk as such social settings encourage, something to pass the time and make the coming hours at least appear to have some semblence of civility to it.
After the minutes have crawled on to a pre-calculated number in her head she licks her lips and does her best to sound seductive, "lets get out of here..."
More of a question than a request; the result would have been the same regardless of how it was phrased.
They can barely keep their hands off each other and they run, giggling through the parking lot only pausing when he pushes her against the door while he fights to find the keys...
The passion is intense, even when accompanied by an awkard afterglow.
The warm nights are the ones he remembers the most. Her eyes slowly sliding closed, with the smile of contentment plastered on her face.
If only he could capture that moment of utter and complete pefection.
Bottle it and keep it for a rainy day.
Better yet, just figure out how to get that moment of perfection without the fucking bottle.
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