She flung her foot on the table and peeled up her black mesh stockings. She looked at him under the misty lights with moist red lips, and casted her eyes down at him. He wished he could run his fingers through her soft blonde hair strands, but he was sitting down on the chair and she was too far up. He looked at her helplessly and thirstily as she prepped herself. His heart was beating out of his thin buttoned shirt. His crotch was pounding. All she had to do was exist. With one look at him, he was flying. With one touch, he would die. He reached his hand to try to touch her, but she was just too far away. He tried to sit up from slouching on his chair, but the gravity was too strong. He tried to whisper her a word, but his voice couldn’t come. He was helpless; helplessly bound, glaring, dreaming, and wondering at the existence of her. Wondering how he could intersect it with his. How he would have a family with her, grow with her, never look at anyone else,
and all the other impossible things. How it’d be possible; he’d promise her.
He closed his eyes and slid down a circular slide in his thoughts, sinking deeper and deeper into the unknown.
He panicked when he was all the way down and he tried to hold her, grab her, reach her.
That’s when he jolted from the chair that he was sitting on. He was in his living room and had been watching the window. It had been raining nonstop for days, and yet again that evening.