Ajar

She was meant to close that door, she wanted to, it would've been the normal thing to do. However, she couldn't find herself to push the door completely and close that way her chance to hear him, moving around in the kitchen, going on with his everyday life as if there wasn't something to remember from last night.

And truly, there wasn't, to the eyes of anyone else. Just two people talking, business, hobbies, life... She felt really comfortable, she laid on the couch like he had been there all her life. But if she had known that all he wanted to do was cover her body with his weight, fill every inch of skin with caress and heavy breathing, look close into her eyes and finally discern the many colours, the many worlds held in that stare.

Perhaps she knew, and that is why she couldn't bring herself to close the door completely, to close herself to the opportunity to claim that thought and make it real. Why did she hope to find him on the other side, fighting his own beast, touching the air contained in the space of that door ajar like he would touch her for the first time, meaning every move of his fingers as if she had to be created from a craftsman's deep desires.

She realised her breath was taken, who knows for how long, and with the next grasp of air, she came back to the room, no one on the other side, just the distant noise of everyday life, as she should've expected.