The Time He Saw Her

The Sixth Time He Saw Her

The sixth time he saw her, they were at the beach again.

The waves rolled in, but otherwise it was silent. It wasn't even evening or night anymore, it was early morning.The world laid calm, didn't stir, didn't cause any commotion.

He had enjoyed the night more than he would've imagined. He told her things about himself he didn't even knew he could tell someone. She told him things he thought no one could know. Together they realized how much they had in common.

Even if all his answers were written in the wet sand beneath the dusty one, and all her's were barley above a whisper, they listened, read, and understood one another.

Because I know how you feel.

Around the time the moon was beginning to fade, he realized that this was one of these moments you don't get back. This was a moment he wouldn't be able to re-live in the vivid detail it deserved. Somehow it made him indescribably calm, because he was sharing it with someone he knew would stick around for awhile. They could together remember bits and pieces, and paint a picture. Maybe not as beautiful as this moment, but even if it was half as pretty it would keep him smiling.

Before the sun was fully visible above the water's horizon, they were fast asleep on each other. They had been stargazing when she fell asleep on his chest, with his jacket around her shoulders. He hadn't complained and just fallen asleep too. Both had a smile on their lips.

And scribbled on a little note in his back pocket was her number.