That One Moment

That One Moment

His gaze meets mine across the open window.

Deep brown. Solid as ground, burning like fire. And I know I have never seen something like this before, nothing more honest, more intense than those bright eyes staring back at me. There’s surprise in the thick pond of his irises, I can clearly see it.

His copper, full lips still partly open on those heavy, scattered breaths. I can hear them from here. I can see his wide chest moving like a bellows under the white and blue coat, tiny drops of sweat running through his forehead down to his tight jaw.

There’s something fierce, bold in his tall, huge feature. But still his face sweet, pure. He’s young; I can guess it by those bright dark eyes. He could have my age.

Nonetheless there’s holding a dirty weapon in his right, ruined hand. Something I never saw before. Something that instantly separates him from my world.

There’s no fear in my mind though. Even if the dirt on the weapon is fresh blood, even if his fingers are holding it with a clear, desperate urge. Something none couldn’t grasp.

But still I can’t break this bond between our looks. I smile and he seems to relax for a moment. Only to tense again when the voices rise down the narrow alley. His head turning abruptly on the side, listening. His long raven black hair moving lightly. Someone’s knocking at my door.

“Run,” I whisper, my voice so faint I doubt he could hear me. Only a moment of hesitation and he’s gone.

But I’m sure of one thing, there’s light now where he was a moment ago.