The small grey cat dallied amongst an array of novels showcased along the antiquated window frame, careful not to tip a duo of chipped, sallow mugs.
He wanted to kiss her.
Her chest rose and fell at a rather impetuous pace, ebony ringlets askew along the small frame of her countenance.
He was going to kiss her.
It was one of those pivotal moments in a relationship; the sort that makes your heart beat at a rather velocious pace
the sort that makes your breathing falter.
and it was all because of her.
"morning," she croaked.
"morning,"
He kissed her.
And he decided, that it would be alright, and they would go from there,
together.
