Breath on the Glass

 

He was captivated by the lipstick mark and her breath on the glass. He was totally smitten by her charm. She was damn gorgeous, beautiful is a small word to describe her.  He shivered like the bridge, as if she was a train passing over him. He wanted to see if he could catch each word that spilled out of her mouth. He was in love! It wasn’t the puppy young love that evaporated like water in a steam engine, it was like a dewdrop on a leaf of the shy tree, the one which closes its petals when you touch it. He was scared that if he touched her, it would ruin her beauty. Her deep brown eyes, her perfect hair bun, the mole on her cheek covered by the silky strands falling over her face. Her eyes weren’t symmetric, the left one was a little below the right one. But he thought she looked cuter that way, it emphasized her innocence. She was a dream to him; he was a dilemma to her! She had many admirers, some wanted her for her beauty, some only wanted to get in bed with her. He was the only one who adored her mind. She loved the attention and liked the compliments that oozed out of his eyes. She, however, wasn’t in love with him. She just loved the way he loved her.