An anthology of dreams

Notes

As we stood in the coffee shop, at top of the hill, the aroma of coffee enticed my senses causing me to crave the taste of the thick luxurious liquid, demanding to feel the warmth of it as it slid down my throat, warming me from the inside, out. I reached into my bag to grab my purse, only to be reminded of the hairband I had brought this time. I plucked the bowed scrunchie from my bag, feeling the fabric on my fingertips. He reached out to me in a playful manner, gently taking the large bowed sage green scrunchy. He studied the object in his hand.

He slowly used his fingers to stretch the opening of the hair tie, his hand flexing as he pushed the band over his knuckles, then to his wrist. I had never paid much attention to his hands until this moment, the way his fingers moved, the length of his digits or the way his hand seemed strong. A smile tugged on his lips ever so slightly as he caught me looking. His movement was graceful and for just one tiny second, I had forgotten that we were in public, that there were strangers around me, while I stared at his hand, his fingers, my eyes flicking back to his face for a moment, trying to work out if he had noticed my behaviour, hoping so desperately he hadn't.