Sensualism (Imagines)

◆ My French Lover

Author's Note: Alphonse is pronounced Al-fons. I hope you enjoy, please continue.

Delia's face was pressed to the cold glass of her window, impatiently waiting for the mail man to arrive. "Oh my gosh, where the FUCK is my package?!" She shouts in a rage, her sweaty palms raising to the back of her neck. Of course as soon as she spoke there was a knock on her front door. She speed walks to the door, opening it hastily.

"Delia McMahon?" The surprisingly very short mailman asks, holding a small envelope.

"Yes!" She snatches the mail out of his hand & shuts the front door. 'Carte Postale' The postcard sticker read. She knew exactly who it was. Delia opens the mail, pulling out a hand-written letter. She then takes a seat onto her couch to read the letter.

My American lover, oh how I miss you. The sweet coconut smell of your hair, your soft voice, your hands in mine. The day I laid my melancholy eyes on your angelic face, they became ecstatic. Believe it or not, mon amour, you changed my life from I first saw you. You were wearing your favorite red ripped jeans along with a white top & heels. You looked absolutely fetching. Although, the look on your face was quite disarrayed. It was only up until I came up to you to give you directions, that that look dissipated. And you had at last looked me in my eyes. Those pretty brown eyes. I want you to know that I love you, Delia, even countries away. But, I have some news to break... I am torn that I will not be able to make it to your birthday dinner my love. My work calls me, it's something I cannot miss under any circumstances & I hate to leave you to think I am coming & I am not. I know this breaks you, we haven't seen each other in a year. Although, I make no empty promises when I say I promise to come & see you as soon as my calendar is empty. So, I wish you a happy birthday my love. I wrote you a poem, I hope you like it.

Life is a flower, love is it's honey.
It is the dove united with the eagle in the sky.
It is trembling grace with sustained force,
It's your hand in my hand..
Gently forgotten.

Please write me back, I am always eager to hear from you.

P.S. I checked the date you should receive this letter so call around 15:00 PM, your time. ♡

Love,
Alphonse

Tears welled up in Delia's eyes after reading the poem her boyfriend wrote for her, but she was still hurt that he couldn't make it for her birthday. She couldn't wait any longer to see him, it pained her to be away from him. What made it worse is he was all the way in France. Alphonse & Delia are an unexpected match made in heaven. Alphonse is a little timid & uptight while Delia could get too wild for comfort. But, somehow the two work like cogs in a machine. They had met when Delia travelled to France, she visited to check out The Leonardo de Vinci University Center before deciding to just go to college in America as she felt the french customs were a little too hard to get used to. After their random encounter, they then began spending an awful amount of time together.

The time read '2:59'. "Oh shit." Delia says under her breath, rushing to her cell phone. Before the first ring could even finish, there was a click.

"Bonjour?" Alphonse answers.

"Alphonse, my love." A smile appeared on his face when he heard her smile through the phone.

"Delia," He sighs. "I'm sorry I can't make it for your birthday."

"It's okay." She wipes away a fallen tear, overcome with joy at hearing his smoky voice with that thick french accent she came to love. "How was your day?" She asked, she loved hearing about his everyday life in France. It became a sort of escape from her boring everyday life. Delia still hung out with her friends & lived her life but, things just never feel right without Alphonse around.