A Glorious Alchemy

Dewey decimals assemble our common presence. Your horticulture hands hide that landscaping manual's lengthy title, but this is my isle and I've held that identical gardening guide like a potted plant. Your sensuous musk spirals through the once stale library air, as cedarwood, cinnamon, and clove collectively caress my nose. So close, we coincide. If I were to peruse my pastime picks, our bodies would overlap, but I keep a refrained, respectable, reachable distance. A confident curiosity draws my gourmet gaze your way, and your eyes likewise look away from their once preoccupied page pondering. An electrifying glance expands beyond our common hobby. Your earthen eyes instantly grip mine like roots to soot. Our hushed "hi"s collide simultaneously. I bite my winter mint incensed lips with an instinctual hint of interest, then a giggly schoolgirl smile follows. I glance down to disregard that massive moment, motioning my fantasy fingers toward a farther away publication, diligently dragging my eyes to a divergent direction, suddenly spinning my slim figure toward the chemical science section. Like a centrifugal force, your tall stature turns toward mine. Your strong hands of provision skim the selection, then deliberately, teasingly reach for the same spine. Our hands collide in a glorious alchemy. 3-27-19