tatjna (tatjna) wrote,
tatjna
tatjna

Today's stockings



I'm a big fan of stockings. You may have noticed. ;-) I particularly like this combination.


Lost for words

She finds him attractive to the point where she has difficulty talking to him. She knows he isn't for her, but still she sees things in him that make her jittery inside and her words stop flowing. She likes to look at him, but when their eyes meet she's afraid he'll see her thoughts, so she looks away. She likes the smell of him but when he's close she gets nervous and clumsy. She's sure he thinks she's a klutz. She knows almost nothing about him although she's known him for a long time. She likes to fantasise about his life, what he does when he isn't here in this one place where she sees him. And she likes to watch him move.

He struggles with the language and is painfully shy. He's seen her looking at him, but she always looks away when he tries to make eye contact so he doesn't know what she's thinking, and he's afraid to talk to her. He feels clumsy, unable to choose the right words, and she seems so relaxed and articulate. He wishes he could talk to her in his native language, so he could tell her the poetry that's inside him. Whenever he's near her, she tenses up. Things go better for her if he stays away, so he does. But he looks, and smiles shyly at her, trying to catch her eye before she looks away.

For months they play eye tag, looking, looking away, starting conversation only to give up, frustrated by the limitation of words from two spheres that won't connect. She loves the little inflections of his accent, he loves her bright smile, but he doesn't understand the words of her humour and she's disappointed when he doesn't laugh at her jokes. And still they look. In looking there is no language, no fear, only appreciation for something pure and untainted by expectation. The beauty of movement.

One day, she touches him, gently, on the shoulder. It's taken her an hour to muster the courage. He's taken aback, doesn't know what to do, what to say. He smiles, meets her eyes, she smiles back, they open their mouths to speak - lost for words, they bolt at the same time. And go back to looking.

Words come so easily to some people. It's possible to motivate, move, seduce, inspire, hurt, love with words. Without words, there is only looking and touching. So much can be conveyed with a look or a touch, yet the people with words seem to find it so easy..

The next time, he takes her hand and holds it. She tenses, relaxes, meets his eyes, smiles. His heart leaps. She can feel hers pounding and is sure he can hear it. She doesn't even try to talk, just looks into his eyes for the first time, smiling in what she's sure is a stupid way. They grin at each other, then she breaks contact and walks away, still looking, still smiling. As she reaches the door, she turns and waves, smiles, meets his eyes. He waves back. She runs all the way home, covering up the excited hammering of her heart. He walks slowly, smiling to himself.

There is no need for words.
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