It wasn't easy to be doing nothing when she was there. He kept trying to refine his image. He wanted her. She wanted him more than him. He knew what was going on. He knew he didn't have to do all that. She kept touching her hair as if to retain the decor of the frame of his eye. She didn't want him to feel she wasn't pretty. She kept doing things to get his attention. The gloss on her lips and the shine on her nails were suppose to dazzle him and so they did, much like her eyes but never as much. They had barely spoken. The best kind of conversations are never aloud. A smile for a smirk and a blush for a touch. They both were enjoying this. More so, they had never spoken to each other before. Silence became expressive after a while, almost tangible, like colors to an artist. Liquid, lucid and alive.
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