A very short piece about what is and what can never be.


1. one

Tony Coote

'Don't worry, Susan. I'll take care of you'.
Oh how I'd longed to hear those words from him. Since the very first time I heard his voice. And this moment - time spent in hopeless hope - suddenly valid now.
As though time passing had caused this.
I can feel the heat of his body wherever he is touching me, at the knee and chest. Across my back as he gathers me to him. Surely I will be burned by such heat.
Much hotter still is the kiss that must surely follow. I almost want it never to come; such is the pain of my need.
Yet, I hold myself ready to accept the wet, red assault of his tongue. Anticipating the scratch of his stubble.
Closer now, but slowly as if, sensing my agony, he has decided to prolong it.
Not for some base, sadistic reason. Rather to allow me to longer savour the moment.
To imbed it deeper into my memory.
Almost touching, now.
Some divorced part of me, standing aside, knows that this will be all we ever have while the residue of me doesn't care - given over to a lust for him.
What has happened?
At the very point of contact - no contact.
As his sweet, long desired mouth kisses mine - no kiss.
Then, through the blurred edges of my tear filling eyes I see him.
Turning away from me.
He is speaking again.
'So you see, Peter, by using your upstage hand you avoid masking Susan's face as you do the kiss scene. Now, let's try to get it right before we open tomorrow shall we?'
And my life can never now be the same.
The End

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