She is standing next to him. Their hands did not touch. They haven't for quite a while now. Where does this distance come from? He's looking away. People are watching them. They feel uncomfortable. They are the want-to-be-couple, they are what others call 'goals' yet it does not feel like this to them at all.

She looked at his hand. How badly she wanted to grab it and then taste his lips again. These sweet, honey lips. How bad she wanted to feel the sensation, the prickling feeling to take over her body again, make her feel like anything was possible if she just dared to take the risk.

Fireworks. It would feel like tiny sparks tingling in her stomach, her fingertips, her chest, her lips. In every part of her being.

She wants to see his eyes light up again, looking at her with love and understanding, showing her what home feels like. She wants to dive into their brown and never come to face reality ever again.

Yet he keeps the distance up. She can't blame him. After all, she was the one who ended up screaming at him over nothing. She should apologize. However, the word 'sorry' just does not seem to want to be formed. It's stuck in her throat and eating her up alive.

How can she make him understand? What is the right way? What would be wrong to do? It seems like the paths that were once so clear disappeared into a sea fizzling ends.

She breathes in. She breathes out.

Slowly, her pinky reaches out. Just a bit farther. Closer. Nearly there. Yes.

Their fingers intertwine. This is their pinky swear. He knows it, too: No matter how hard they fight, they will always eventually find their way back to each other. A promise they keep in their hearts. Forever.

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This short story was based on something I observed quite a while ago although I made the ending up. I do hope though that these two people will also end up finding a life of their own, whether it is with one another or not.

xxx Sarah