I've always been the girl who wanted to stop time.
As his warm hand held mine and our eyes connected we knew I had to leave, that he had to help clean up, but the longing we saw in each other's eyes we knew we had to hold on forever. Soon he would leave back to California, while I stayed in the Midwest. We'd be millions of miles away from one another, but in that moment nothing mattered other than our connected hands and the realisation that our hearts had connected with every touch. That's why he had held my shoulder every time he came to our table, that's why he looked at me whenever he had the chance while he was on stage and that's why he didn't pull away from my touch.
As his fingers slipped from mine I felt the cold air hit the part of my hand that his had previously been covering and I saw the pain in his eyes as he stepped backwards. I noticed how he still reached for me like I was still in his arms and how his eyes were still locked on my own, neither of us acknowledging the small audience we had. Our hands dropped and he turned to leave, his eyes never once leaving mine until he stepped behind the black curtain that lead backstage.
And with that one single moment gone, I wanted even more to be able to stop time.
