[Written by Charlotte Smith]
[Image Credits: Florence Bridgman]
Our eyes met as you were speeding towards me off the expressway, and I was finished. It was my lapse – the glance into your car was reflexive, but catching your eye changed the game. The moment of fright between us only made me fall harder, deeper. In that second, your rapidly approaching eyes pulled me into the passenger seat, bringing me along for the ride as you wrestled to maintain a speed which this car was designed for but that corner certainly never was. What a rush. Is this feeling in my throat love or burning rubber? I know you could feel it too because your eyes stayed on me, stuck; and as I invaded your space you considered invading mine, considered what it would mean to take the cosy interior of your world and force it through the aperture of my eye, to pin me against the wall with some assistance from half a ton of German engineering and keep pushing and pinning and pushing until we were nose to nose. I can almost feel your breath on my lip. Is this feeling love or an insurance write off?
Either way. Call me.