Tryst

No. Not again. Despite the inevitability of the select moments within our lives, often, frequently, there are moments that cannot be escaped. You can run. You could lie. You might object but, when all the procrastination has ended, you’re left with inevitability.

He placed his hand against the desk, remaining stable, as his mind flashed previous events into his viewable day. He had many thoughts. Private thoughts, moments, seconds, where his consciousness seemingly escaped into another reality. Sure, previous memories were often experienced by nearly every single person, but this was different. To him, at least. He’d expire every single one of them but, deep down within his very soul, he simply did not wish to do so.

He smiled, for a brief second, allowing his desire to overcome his thoughts. There they were, his emotions. Brief, inescapable, often speaking words that could only be felt. The clock, ticking against the wall, counted the seconds before the rendezvous. Private, romantic, close, expressive, communicative, as well as intently passionate. They had everything, but each other’s complex foibles. Neither would admit to what they had, what they were doing, let alone if the chance of it moving somewhere was even afforded to either of them.

He, simply, easily, complicitly, endured the possibility of losing himself completely. Friends, worried for his very mind, provided unsolicited advice. Colleagues ventured the same stories. He did not care. At all. Not even for a second. To feel, to fathom the depths of one’s emotions, meant the world to him. He shared with her, he opened his very soul, within private.

There was romance. They were lovers, they were a ‘thing’, as people often mentioned or, as they stated lately, they were within a ‘situationship’.  Their words did not, could not, convey anything about what was being experienced. People also said that to never feel anything, would be but a sin within the mortal realms. He was mortal and, thankfully, he felt everything. Her lips, her thoughts made real, her expressive smile, the way she moved and, most of all, he felt her words resounding within the echo chambers of his very soul.

She moved with such grace and, despite being a tentative subject, gracious femininity. She was intelligent, connective, not afraid to express her needs and, thankfully, she side stepped the passive aggressive nature of so many people within the world. She was, to think of more words, her own being.

He removed his hand from the table, running it over his face, removing the fatigue from his thoughtful expression.  Another moment, another smile. She was private, yet open to him. She was romantic and yet, a closed book to people around her. They were lovers and furthermore, they were friends when the door opened, and the world asked them to visit.

The lovers. The willing entrapment of two hearts wishing and wanting there to be more. Despite the risk, regardless of the future, two people simply had to take the possible chance of something, or anything, working out right. This is why he’d planned the secret little destinations. The meeting of two people that adored the surprises of life and location.  Private, passionate, kisses amongst the stars and under the hidden trees.  A hundred places, a thousand thoughts. A thousand thoughts, amongst the many kisses.

He flicked the pages of the dictionary, that was sat upon the table to his left. A reminder, a recourse. A potion of passion and a thought for a moment. He loved her and she, oh yes she, loved him with such a passion that it could only be expressed by the pure and poignant explanation of a word. The pages slowed and, finally, he reached the correct word to describe their very situation and emotions,

‘Tryst: a private romantic rendezvous between lovers: keep a private, romantic rendezvous with a lover’

Another moment, another smile, another second before she arrived. If anything, despite a million words being afforded to him, he was beyond happy with the small, simple, romantically enticing word, tryst.