The flame

A brief piece of fiction...

It was as if someone had struck a match.

Saw her yesterday. She was still beautiful, just the way I remembered. Her beauty hits you with a force that makes you cherish the moment, hold it close, save it for a rainy day, when the world is cold.

Her eyes, the color of coal, looked on in that ethereal seductive way she has, making you forget everything, including your own name.

"Hi," she said. "You're looking good."

"It's been a long time."

"How are you? Is your health good."

"Yep. Health is good."

I couldn't think. Suddenly, it was Nashville in winter, rain on the window and her in my arms. I think about her kisses to this day, soft and wet, and the look that was in her eyes at 3 a.m.

I tried to get her to forget about the rest of the day that long ago morning. Wanted her to eat breakfast and stay wrapped in my arms.

But she didn't.

She said she was only passing through town. A job called in another part of the country. Just where she didn't say.

We embraced one last time.

"It was so good to see you."

"You look good. You look really good."

I walked away and then stopped, wanting one last look. I turned.

She smiled and winked.

"Good-bye."

"See you."

I walked outside.

An old flame was burning brightly. You know the kind.

It burns eternally, never to be extinguished.