“I’ll call you tomorrow,” she said. I’ll call you tomorrow…

My heart was on fire, but I couldn’t tell yet. At first all I felt was the slow simmer. My hand around her waist, the acquiescence of her form to fit the approach of mine. Tracing the shape of her ear with my finger, I could see all the possibilities of happiness that a man and woman could have.

Tomorrow came. The call didn’t.

I’d call her that day, if I could let myself, but that would be admitting weakness. Showing my hand too soon. The inquiry would be casual… “Oh, how was your day?” The deeper meaning wouldn’t be lost.

After a night of perceived connection, I wanted to talk to her more than she wanted to talk to me. After such emotional highs, tantalizing as an erotic dream slowly turned translucent in memory by the passage of time, like the sun flaunting its heat and clearing the marine layer from its wisp-like cling of the coastline, how can things dip so low, so fast?

From my peak to her valley, the journey upwards begins anew.