Set: the morning rush hour express train heading down town, packed to the gills
He is smiling, not on purpose, not because he is responding to something she is saying, but because he is standing right before her soclosesoclosesoclose, her eyes are like earth, rich and brown and everything and her hair smells like honeysuckle and the sunshine of the departed summer. He dips his head for a brief press of his lips to hers but the kiss lingers softly, her eyes closing, his eyes closing, the chatter around them receding into nothingness. There is no whine of the train against the tracks, there is no slightly garbled voice of the announcement. The train stops as the kiss ends. He briefly brushes his cheek against hers, her skin silksatinvelvethomehomehomehome, and swallows, his smile fading. Then he steps out onto the station, leaving her behind.
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