28 Stars ("Don't Be Afraid, We'll Make It Outta This Mess")

My back was turned, replacing the bottle of Jack on the shelf, as the order was placed over the bar. "Can I get a pomegranate martini, please?" I smiled lightly to myself, before the rest of my brain kicked in. "Hang on! That accent's English, Birmingham, unless I'm very much mistaken!"

It certainly wasn't you, unless you've dyed your hair, had implants and suddenly decided to wear contact lenses. I could not help myself thinking how nice it would be if it was you. Hear that sound? It's me crossing my fingers.

I wanted, just for the most fleeting of moments, to be able to reach over the bar and kiss you. That'd do me right now. This stupid situation of Facebook status tag is the furthest thing from ideal, but for the time being it's the best we can do. I can bear it. I have the shoulders of Atlas, remember?

I did laugh, however, yesterday. I knew immediately how close those masquerade ball wombats came to the truth. Barely shaved it, that's how close. Looks like I'll be spending most of our (long hoped-for) time together shattering a few cliches. Not that I would care, it's time with you, which is more precious than anything.

A kiss for your forehead, dear one.

• Join Date Jun 2008
• Location Currently, the dreams of a waitress
• Posts 2,761
• Blog Entries 74