His breath smells like fish and wine; which is not a good combination. He is practically covered in sand, and his hair is wet with sweat. But when he throws back his head and laughs, I forget about how bad he smells, and become lost in his eyes.
His eyes are entrancing. Joy and sorrow, mixed with ferocity and determination.
There are times when I've wondered if he’s crazy. First there’s his homelessness, and the fact that we are constantly finding ourselves in mortal danger. Some of his claims seem so blasphemous.
After dinner, we recline back from the table. I lay my head on his strong shoulder and listen to his voice. Laughter echoes throughout the room, followed by singing, and more wine. A cool evening breeze stirs the curtains, mixing the smells in the air. Fresh bread, honey, alcohol, and sweat.
On these nights, everything is perfect. I wish it could stay like this forever.
The End
No comments:
Post a Comment