He knew I liked the dark. He called it the silhouette effect. Of seeing and not seeing entirely. Of inhaling sharply, touching and feeling taut smooth warmth.
We drove seeking the dark that night.
His signature cologne was held in a dark bottle and I thought it was such a rip-off using a product whose longevity one couldn’t determine. You would know you’d exhausted its contents when the puff no longer bore liquid
When the puff no longer bore liquid.
His puff no longer bore any liquid the third time and I knew he’d given me his all.
I was half amused at the thought of seeking the dark for what only we knew. I’d agreed with the zodiac character trait list that was attributed to his birth month. This was a person whose depth was not face value. He held furtive glances and a silent demeanor that opened with familiarity. Then there was that episode of an occasional admission that only surfaced with intense emotion.
‘This feels so good!’
He was highly guarded and immune to vulnerability. I smiled secretly each time I sensed that in a pile of words, there was a hidden message that needed my attention. I knew when he wanted something. I learned that this was more about perception than overt expression.
More sensual than visual. Parallels with the idea of Dark Fall nights where everything was really more about perceiving than seeing or saying.