[She watches his hand drift away, laid down to rest between them, realizing with utter finality that the opportunity to reclaim a pleasure once denied would not come twice—that tonight would be their first and last night together, at least, for a very long while.
Soon, he would return down to the bright beaches of Atlantic City, and she would be swept off to Chicago, or perhaps to New York, as her husband had discussed to be their next destination—the phantom city where a figure from her past departed forever, with only a paper trail of infrequent letters left in his absence. He will return to his mysterious line of business, and she will be taken up again to the martial bed whenever her spouse craves a Southern spice, and this budding adoration and affection will be nothing, but a bittersweet memory by the sea.
She leans in, not for another impassioned kiss, but to rest the curve of her cheek against his collarbone, listening to the drumming of his heart and the faint rhythm of his evening breaths.]
I wish...
[Her own physical dissatisfaction with their consummation is but a trifle, in comparison to the knowledge that they can never again steal off for a secret rendezvous beneath the moonlight, that she is just an interlude to him in the bustle of life, and that her heart is almost bursting with unrequited affection for him, in its every beat.]
I wish we could've met, before tonight.
[She murmurs with a melancholy sigh, tilting her chin up to look at his face.]
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Soon, he would return down to the bright beaches of Atlantic City, and she would be swept off to Chicago, or perhaps to New York, as her husband had discussed to be their next destination—the phantom city where a figure from her past departed forever, with only a paper trail of infrequent letters left in his absence. He will return to his mysterious line of business, and she will be taken up again to the martial bed whenever her spouse craves a Southern spice, and this budding adoration and affection will be nothing, but a bittersweet memory by the sea.
She leans in, not for another impassioned kiss, but to rest the curve of her cheek against his collarbone, listening to the drumming of his heart and the faint rhythm of his evening breaths.]
I wish...
[Her own physical dissatisfaction with their consummation is but a trifle, in comparison to the knowledge that they can never again steal off for a secret rendezvous beneath the moonlight, that she is just an interlude to him in the bustle of life, and that her heart is almost bursting with unrequited affection for him, in its every beat.]
I wish we could've met, before tonight.
[She murmurs with a melancholy sigh, tilting her chin up to look at his face.]