"Adam", I say, and I watch him. His face in the
mirror looks back to
me, eyes wide awake and aware and shining with light. His hair, as
always cut short to stop every attempt of curling at the beginning,
gleams like a sealīs fur in the faint sunlight that comes through
the dirty windows.
He brushes his hair, with carefully measured movements, and I watch
the long fingers work, the sinews move on his wrist and hand, a
familiar sight.
He watches me in the mirror, and every moment now I know heīll turn
around and take me in his arms and kiss me. I shiver.
He turns around to me and smiles, and his eyes lighten up to that
golden brown I love so much. He holds out his hand, and I take it
and with my other hand I undoe all his careful attempts to groom his
hair when I touch his neck and pull him down to me.
Damn the brush, anyway.
By: Nadin