Date

He sent her a letter that night in the reflection- a location, date, and time, sealed in an envelope, marking the day they had their first date. He planned every specifics, and prepared for everything that was to happen, everything except how the evening would go. It was a week from now. He did this for the first several dates all of which were far apart from each other. The details needed time, and through the wait there was a buildup of excitement and anticipation. He didn't often splurge what he earned, so when he did spend, it was always with purpose, and it was always with quality. This was how he planned the special dates in the days of the years later on, the standard dates were still formal but because of the frequency later on, the effort was conceded according to the importance. An invitation by mail, a return enclosed, which she would check the boxes, sending back by mail. Accepts with pleasure or declines politely. It was anonymous, for her to know of a secret admirer.

He grabbed his umbrella and walked her home that evening. When they reached the footsteps of her door, he turned to her, standing beneath the umbrella in the drizzling rain. The orange red colors of the sunset engulfing stormy dark blue grey clouds, a beautiful array of colors. "Bye", she said smiling and heading towards her door.

“May I see you again?”

She turned around and looked at him, walking up in front of him, and in those eternal seconds of response. As she moved closer into his space, in breaths reach, tippy toeing up to him, her hands against his chest, her breath against his as their lips barely touch, not saying a word. "I was wondering if you were going to ask me", the scent of her breath intoxicating him. She started to walk back towards the door, without saying anything more. "Send me the details?", she said as she reached her door again.

Vibrations of a cellphone: texts that were blurred out and hard to read, the audience watches as she lays on her bed looking at her phone typing…

time, location, agenda

*Pick me up at my place?

*My pleasure

Flirting is a beautiful game, a game of whether or not what you think is true, is true. Excuses to touch. To suggest.

A look here. A look there. A lead up to where you want to go.