A Late Lunch

An effort was made upon my part, as I focused the half image, so that it became of a scaring clarity upon my retina. I have never felt the ground quake in such a manner before...'neath my helpless feet. Long sleepless hours of numbing work rendered my rationality to a timid spark, and so this paved way for lucid chimeras to play about my fancy.

Moderation was a fools game! And indeed I played a fools gamble for as long as I could remember. With dreary hands I let slip and fall card after card, in the vane hope of a untimely resurrection. No more of that my friend, no more. Look you now on what I dare behold between two of my clasped fingers! See! and let your eyes be dumb with wonder as the Queen of Hearts evades a smile. Awe, the word that comprised and compounded the very essence of the air in that single moment. Broke the vibration I did with a scuff, I did...And as I reached for the pack my hand bled in laceration as I redly palmed the next card. The King of Spades, he frowned between trickles of treacle, thick and brewing. I lifted my head.

I ran my fingers through my hair. I tried to give the impression of some internal motion, but to no avail. The narcoleptic fumes were enough to drown any sober retaliation. The whole of my cognitive ropes and pulleys were thick with tobacco and partly digested ideas. My darling half-borns....My eyes have moved up and down her face for about a quarter of an hour. Beauty was obvious, wit and so much more was long ago confirmed. Sentences of friendly voices buzzed around the jammed hinges of interest and recollection. Some voices spoke out more clearly then others, others more kind then the rest, one more true and close to my heart than all. And as I understood what folly compacted my actions and lucid, ethereal, perigrimations I drew a conclusion.

Her hand graded my shoulder, some words were addressed to me. I could hear not. I could not remove my attention from her fine hair that raced in cavalcade, of ember hues, down some length of her back and arms. With what gentleness of path, fragile veins made trail on her neck and chin, tracing outlines of nobility like in some monumental sculpture of elevated nature. In what sublime depth of calm waters did her eyes made home...I made an indistinct gesture.

With what strength I had let in my body I managed to galvanize the whole of it into an erect posture. My gaze spun wildly. And falling upon her, I saw that she was expecting an answer.
"Cigarette?" asked I, as I made for the door...