The Man, The Room, and The Girl

A room. A man. A woman. In the silence, they sit beside each other, discussing things of meaning, of value. With each passing second, they share knowledge of their past, their memories, and things of intimacy.

Glee is most obvious in their faces. On the man can be seen a grin, wider than any he's ever had before. On the girl, her lips part revealing the whiteness of her teeth. She smiles, her delight just radiating out of her expressions.

Trust is slowly building. Honesty is what binds them. Their words are of respect for one another. There is purity in the way they converse. There is nothing sexual or green about how they pace through this moment of absolute bliss.

The man, known for being anachronistic--possessing traits of those who had passed, a gentleman in the modern world--continues with the conversation when a thought possesses him.

He glances at the woman in front of him. As cliche as it would sound, the world's frame rate increases, and every second becomes of more length than the last. Each bit of magnificent, beautiful, and gorgeous detail on the girl, he observes.

As he does, his mind races and whispers into his soul to commit to an action he had never pondered upon before. His eyes move from the girl's eyes, down past her cheeks, and onwards to her lips.

The man feels a thrill.  Lightning scatters about in his veins.  Thunder throbs his heart.  He slowly motions his head forward, aiming to have his lips touch something that to him, is of absolute wonder.

The one foot distance separating the two individuals, at a snail’s pace, begins to shrink.  An inch into his action, the man achieves a realization of momentous value.  He notices his blood rushing through every crevice of his body.  He feels every chill currently enshrouding the entirety of his skin.  He looks into the workings of his mind and sees nothing but an abstract current of tidal proportions infiltrating his intellect and his wisdom.

Sensation had trumped his thought.  His present desire had overpowered his future aspirations.

This woman in front of him is the one.  This is what the man believed in.  But until he had taken her hand in holy matrimony, she is not his to have—not yet.  For despite his current surety, her presence, their acquaintance, and whatever emotion had broiled within the depths is not at all certainty, but rather simply, opportunity.  And to have her now is to throw her away forever.

The man inches back and positions himself to his original upright position.  He exhales a subtle breath, thinking with hope that the woman he has feelings for had not seen what choice he would have chosen just a mere few seconds ago.

In the silence, the man and woman sit and speak.  They converse of many different things, important things.

The man sits and looks at the woman in amazement and awe.  With each passing second, he enjoys every moment.  There is purity in the way they converse.

Such purity is one he had almost defiled.

But such purity is what he had chosen to maintain.