Entwining soul fibres

The meeting

He perches on a bar stool at a table that abuts a ceiling-to-floorwindow, sipping a dark latte in a double insulated glass. He hunches over his newspaper, causing his grey T-shirt to rise up and reveal his lower back and a slip of red from under lightly fraying and faded jeans. Heglances over the top of his newspaper through the window now and then, onto the passing city foot traffic in the lane way. He fixes onto the occasional woman in red or man in blue that speed by until they reach the door of the café. His gaze stops at the door each time and wills it open. And when it does open, his knee bounces and his heel on the foot rest beneath the stool, jitters. A new customer approaches the counter wanting coffee or a toasted focaccia on the run. Baristas move in speedy hustle sending coffee machines to grind and hiss in steam. He relaxes back into his reading.

A couple at a corner table wearing black suits chat in dynamic pitch. Hands wave and heads nod. One has a bubble-glassed coffee while the other has a cup of tea with a drop of milk. They’re oblivious to anyone or anything but one another, immersed in their conversation.

After the umpteenth willing of the door open, his expression changes.

He leaps from his stool in eyes of gaping gawk at the door that’s opened. His hunch has disappeared and he’s much taller and leaner than his slouch disclosed. He smiles deep in lines of happy as he fixates on her.

She gazes around, and smiles as a sparkle of a star when she spots him. She walks toward him in beaming light, her step quickening and extending in stride that makes her toned legs skinned by jeans, long and slender, and her unruly locks part to the sides. Each stride comes with more light.

They have not yet touched but they’re already connected by invisible soul fibres that entwine and draw them to one another’s core. Their pull of power is unwavering. The couple at the corner table and baristas stop in gob-smacked jaw.

They embrace as those soul fibres bolt into golden padlocks set deep into hearts. They fuse as the one mass to become their own shooting star, where no other realm can exist. And even when they draw their heads back to gaze at one another, they’re still emitting their impenetrable sparkle.

Then comes the kiss … deep in longing; lingering and locked in effervescence. They kiss without restrain as a glowing sentinel in the café. Their arms and hands fit in perfect place over one another, chests and thighs fuse to become one complete body. They radiate in multi-dimension to the extremities of the Universe.

They release. He pulls a stool for her and takes her hand to guide her to sit. They chat but the conversation doesn’t matter. It’s more about the way she relaxes one hand over his knee while the other grips his bicep as she leans in to chat. He gazes at her in wait while resting his hand over hers, never to let her from his grasp.

A waiter brings her a coffee in a long glass-topped with whipped cream, and a slice of Linzer tart on a plate with two forks. She breaks off a piece with her fingers and feeds it into his mouth, and kisses him to catch the crumbs falling from his lips.

She sips her coffee and scoops at her cream; he chats and strokes her hair behind her ear. They sometimes and giggle and always touch. He cuts some tart onto the fork and eases it to her mouth. She savours it, then his lips. They embrace.

One after another that passes by the window look in to catch their sparks.

He and she don’t notice. They see nothing but him and her. Nothing more matters.