Come Here

Very, very short

A David Bowie cover band happened to be playing. Paul looked at Sadie sitting next to him. Her blond hair slumped to one side of her face, her long legs sprawled out in front of her, she was asleep. And with an almost delighted curiosity he examined her freckled nose and her chapped rosy lips. It was more than delight more than curiosity. He was feeling relief in a way he never had before as if discovering dreams could come true.

            Paul scooted closer to her and allowed his gentle hands to guide her face to his shoulder and then he put his arm around her but in a protective sort of way. His nerves began firing with pleasure. Her hair touching his cheek; the smell of apple shampoo and gin. He was soaking it all in. The blue band-aide on her knee. The coarse feel of her black dress. It was as if all the wonder was too much and the closeness that was so prevalent disappeared in a flash and she never felt so unattainable and far away and perfect. He wanted to be angry at her but the clueless look on her slumbering face was so endearing. Then he saw Beth singing her solo for about five guys while standing on an iron chair.

            “Beth!” He shouted without thinking. “Beth!”

            Sadie awoke and jostled up like a stiff toy. She looked at Paul with surprise that made her look younger.

            “When did you get here?” She asked, blood coming to her face in the form of pulsing shame.