our first day together
and it’s thundering.
the air around us progressively thickens until the rain surrounds me on all sides, droplets of water outlining the curves of my cheeks turning rosy
looking at you.

you look back with what is, at the time, so
o b v i o u s l y
a mischievous glance at my smile.
i am smiling from discomfort. it seems everyone notices but you.
“im not ready for this storm,” you sigh jokingly as you shake out a fold-up umbrella. neither am i. a flash of black and white stripes – and the canopy is overhead.
your first and most innocent offense.
you’re rather bold. you take my hand a little too quickly.
second offense.
you seem to be on a roll.

my hand fits within yours perfectly, like puzzle pieces, and we are each other’s solution. despite this, your hand is sweaty and clammy, clumsy, and although i contemplate letting go, i find strange comfort in the warmth.
“i thought we were going to start out as friends.”

we’re on different wavelengths.

“im a man in love,” you respond. “i cant be patient.”
my heart beats once. twice.
it’s your third offense, and you just keep breaking the same rules.