few days

“it’s been few days, and somehow, she already feels like a memory i’ve lived before. last night, we were on call. she was a little tipsy — voice soft, laugh lazy, words slurring just enough to sound like honey. the way she said baby that night— slow, sweet, almost too real— it did something to me. she laughed, did that thing with her mouth that always gets me, and then drifted off mid-sentence, leaving me there, wide awake, listening to the sound of her breathing like it was a song i didn’t want to end. and god, i kept replaying her voice, the way baby lingered long after she slept. it wasn’t the word, it was the warmth in it. like she meant it, even if she didn’t. morning came soft. café lights, music low, her sitting across from me, hands wrapped around a cup of coffee like she was holding sunlight. the moment our eyes met, everything else just disappeared. she talked, i listened, but really— i was watching her smile, the way she looked away every time she caught me staring. it felt easy. like we’d known each other forever, just forgot for a while. by afternoon, i was at her shop. we sat close, talking about nothing that somehow felt like everything. scrolling through her snaps, laughing at moments i wasn’t even there for, but wanted to be. my hand found her thigh. she didn’t move it. just smiled. time slipped quietly like it didn’t want to interrupt. there was this calm tension hiding in plain sight— the kind that feels like you’re one word away from something you can’t take back. she noticed when i got quiet, and when i finally spoke, she listened— really listened— like she could hear what i wasn’t saying. and then, somewhere between laughter and silence, she placed her foot on my dick, eyes glimmering like she knew exactly what she was doing. she looked at me— that same teasing look, licked her teeth slowly, and grinned, like she was testing how much control she had. and god, she had all of it. the air was thick, and i swear, every small move she made felt deliberate. like she was writing the scene in real time and i was just trying to keep up. as the sky darkened outside, i asked her for a kiss— half joke, half wish. she didn’t answer. just leaned in close enough for me to feel her breath, and bit my lip instead. not too hard, just enough to leave a mark and a silence that felt louder than anything we’d said all day. then she pulled back, smiling like she’d stolen something and got away with it. maybe she did. maybe she still has it. few days. that’s all it’s been. but she’s already every soft glitch in my system, every half-written line of thought, every calm that doesn’t last. and i don’t know what this is, but i know i haven’t stopped thinking about the way she said baby.”