habitude.

   His skin always looked so smooth, she thought, And cool. Like the pale underside of a cucumber skin. She would often stare at the vulnerable whiteness curving behind his left ear. He sat in front of her, slightly to her right, and every day she found herself trapped by this bermuda triangle of skin. She treasured her secret morsel with a dragon-like glee, knowing it was unnoticed by most eyes, including his own. Many times she wondered how its supple angles would feel against the molten pink of her tongue.

   Each day she promised this would be the day to walk the long walk to the elevators beside him. She'd smile a smile that would reveal all her days of longing to him in one heartstop of a moment. His smile would prove her victory, and she would take him home to claim her prize.

   Each day she followed him out, behind and slightly to his left.

   She then went home to prepare the Food Network recipe of the day, which she'd eat in front of a fluctuating melange of television, weekly status reports, and the occasional paperback novel. Her nights all ended with the crawl inside her personal ocean of cool white sheets. When she had dreams, they consisted only of his flesh quenching her feverish surfaces; waking up to lather, rinse, repeat the day before.

   Somehow, it was enough.

Reviews

[Alysa Salzberg]

This is a really well-written piece. I love how you play with figurative langauges. My absolute favorites are: "His skin always looked so smooth, she thought, And cool. Like the underside of a cucumber skin." I've never thought of skin this way, and it totally works. And "crawl inside her personal ocean of cool white sheets". This to me is the sign of a truly creative mind: you reveal new ways to look at the world. This piece could have had lots of cliched and worn-out similes and metaphors, but its language is original all the way through. Great job!

[vukcic]

I like it. I like the metaphors you employ, like "dragon-like" and "bermuda triangle". Very revealing of the mind of a girl infatuated. Upon first read, I was a little creeped out by the honing in of that bit of skin behind the ear, haha. If there's ever a sequel to this where she manages the courage to speak to him, I would advise her to not mention that part. But this is a story that will remain in my brain beyond the time I'm spending with it now. When I go to class I'll be more observant, thinking of this story, watching the eyes of my peers. Perhaps I'll see a pair fixating on another's random bodypart?

[Dom Macchiaroli]

A whole bunch of great thought wrapped up in a short piece. You just get better and better. Good job.

[Zeitgeist Manifesto]

This was amazing. I got swept away by this story.
Beautiful work.

Near the end I was afraid that I wouldn't be satisfied by the length because I was so intrigued, but you managed to wrap it up in spectacular fashion.

[.]

"Her nights all ended with the crawl inside her personal ocean of cool white sheets"
i really enjoyed the mood of this story...
i love the second paragraph--it sets a wonderful mood...
and the last line---a great write!!!

J:)

[Crowley]

Ahhhhhh.....quiet obsession can be so fulfilling in its own way, and much less messy than engaging the longing. This was superbly written as only you can. I would read a snapshot like this by you everyday until the day I died and would die a happy man. Nice stuff.

[Ecnelis]

This is gorgeous. The imagery is out of this world.

"Many times she wondered how its supple angles would feel against the molten pink of her tongue."

Ugh! It creates this beautiful sensual vibe that excites atoms. I can so relate. I had a very similar experience. In fact, it was the little black hairs on the back of his ear that fascinated me so.

The last line is beautifully, heartbreakingly, true.

[Devons]

A poignant little snapshot of the private obsessions of an ordinary life. It makes me think how the undiscovered sensual dreams of Eleanor Rigby might be; or the woman that describes her daily life in Abba's The Day Before You Came. How ordinary day-to-day existence is secretly inflamed by hidden desires. The contrast of this mundanity with the dreamy romance of the imagination is shown starkly and tenderly especially in the last phase of the piece. It's interesting to imagine these undisclosed dreams; the kind of dreams that deep down are playing out in the minds of all kinds of similar people we pass by in the street every day. The last two lines are the epitome of this sadness and beauty.

[R J Askew]

Sitting in my office -- eating a sarny with, yes, cucumber in it -- I actually glanced over my left shoulder, just to check it anyone were there and, yes, actually touched behind my left ear. Your intesne lines have, at least to me, two key truthes: firstly, you show how the most unexpected corners of our physical beings can prove absolutely alluring, and, seocondly, how we can draw great streams of love from the smallest of sources. A great little read.

[Ed Hart]

the tiny morsels that can pass for a life

[DavidRyanM]

I like this a lot, darlin. Beautiful and yet a tinge of sadness at the same time. Not very often to you read something where you're like ,"Wow...I want that feeling...oh wait, maybe not."