Page 64 of The Cruiser
“I know what you mean,” I say and kiss away her worry.
There’s more to say, so much more, but conversation is hard to prioritize with thousands of years of human instinct coming alive under each other’s touch.
The meal?
It never happens.
The bed, however, gets appropriately destroyed.
And, well, the intention was to get clean after in the bath.
I must apologize to Jean-Claude.
* * *
The Bentley’s headlights illuminate the motorway, two beams searching the empty darkness of midnight. Searching, like me. Vandana’s in the passenger seat, dozing. Ten minutes earlier her fingers curled around mine; now, our two hands rest on the console.
To have someone hold your hand like it means something…
I’ve never been much of a talker and I’m at a loss for words tonight.
So many questions.
I’m searching my soul for the answers.
I don’t know what I feel inside.
I just don’t want it to stop.
