Losing control
Our first meeting started getting out of control, but neither of us can leave it there.
We sit back at our table, both of us flushed, breathing heavily. Slowly, the pub comes back into focus—the sounds of people talking, the clink of glasses, reality. Our eyes lock as we bring ourselves back under control, the need for each other lingering with the memory of what just happened. You take a sip from your drink. A breeze of cold air under your thin summer dress makes you realize how exposed you are, but this on...