The Eiffel stands still, Her hair burns against the gray— Coffee waits, untouched.

Gorgeous. Again. The Eiffel Tower is always a nice addition. I am still scrolling to find you chess player with the reflection in his eyes.

Splendide.

Her mind becomes dazed as they make small talk at first about his day and then hers. Each of them longing to be somewhere else, somewhere more private, somewhere they can unleash the coiled tension they share. In the real world, he officially belongs to another but in their world they've been lovers forever. They've known each other in past lives. It has to be true or else she must be insane. She knows she should question, she knows she should seek some kind of promise, but does a blazing fire negotiate with the wood it consumes? No, it just does what comes naturally and partakes and partakes until it burns out. Will they burn out? He kisses her, not a tame one but a deep, claiming kiss. No, they will not burn out. They will endure and grow...together.

He sees her waiting for him. She stands out like a masterpiece of art in a collection of refuse. Her eyes, her smile, her grace are so overwhelming. He's watched how other men have tried to get up the nerve to talk to her and fail. She is his and he knows he needs to take better care of her. As he sits down, he pulls his chair closer to hers and places his palm on her thigh in a clear move of possession. She grins at him, knowing what he was doing and not caring. Suddenly, there's no one else in the world except her eyes and his touch of her warm, soft skin.

There is a stir in the cafe and she knows its him. He just draws people into the circle of his orbit with his over-powering presence. A soft smile comes to her as she sees him approach. His eyes light on her and she can see the fire ignite within them. It causes her to squirm slightly and also feel that indescribable warmth of knowing she was his. Was he hers? A part...yes. How big a part? She had no idea and wasn't going to look at it too closely. As he approached the table, there was suddenly not enough air in the room and she involuntariy gasped.

It's your art that evokes it. Thanks, Rob. You're a nice fellow.

She waits for him. She always waits. He has so many other things he attends to but forgets to spend time with her. He shouldn't take her for granted, yet he does. If it wasn't for the passion he invoked within her, she could be logical and let him go. Heart and needs never align with good sense. She waits in the morning fog as her coffe gets cold.