The Roar of the Engine

Like magnets their lips shocked together, these old patterns were easy but some how different. Sweeter, he tasted sweeter and nicer, he snuggled better. His smile still the same, that smile that had made him the one in a crowd of jostling young men so many years ago. In the dark glow of HBO that smile flashed back and took her back to nights of shaking and butterflies. Even now as she writes about it she smiles, the best freckles and that smile, that smirk of content, nothing had changed, he somehow still had her in his clutches unbeknownst to him. He would burn her again in the next 48 hours, thinking these lessons ought not be learned twice she would turn off, shut down for awhile. But in the middle of the night she would find herself smiling to his smile and know there would be more burns to bear, for this tumultuous affair of serendipitous events was just revving its engine for another journey.