Caught up by your small gestures of envading my space.
Not just once but three times, as I remembered.
It was one of those April errands that made me sit on something cozy and lose myself in a daydream. Somewhere in the absence of chaos, I plucked my Baltimore strings. Eyes half closed. After some time, strands of my hair fluctuated, a hint of coumarin brought me back to reality, and small movements filled my peripheral vision. Because this guy showed up close to my face, I nearly slipped the tuning I set up for 120 seconds.
He uttered my name three times, and he thanked me after I smiled at him.
YOU ARE READING
Lonesome ship's cabin
Poesia*collections of spare nightmares and escapism *sort of my dreamland, all of us is not perfect when it comes to writing literary pieces, so do I. *time travel inspired stories
