Little Love

I look at him through the mirror. I look at his eyes, sharp and focussed. I watch him move from my left to my right, moving his hands artfully, as if he is playing a violin. He glances at me to see how I look. Quickly, I move my eyes off him. Definitely, he thinks I am pretty. Only, he can't show it. He gently moves his finger along the side of my face to push back a fringe of hair falling over my face. He has felt the softness of my cheeks, and surely, in his mind, he marvels at the radiance of my skin. He is trying his best to hide his admiration for me, but his second quick glance at my face reveals it. His hands move fast, but my eyes move slow. To someone who looks at us, it might seem to be a matter of few minutes that would be over in a gulp, but I am savouring it, drinking in each little moment, real slow. I take delight in the moment when a lock of hair curls up and rests over my lips and he moves it off with the back of his finger. He couldn't have helped notice the contrast of dark black hair against bright pink lips. I wonder if he is falling in love with me. It intoxicates me, when he runs his fingers through my hair. I can smell him. He smells of skill, and mystery, and  experience. He has seen many a women, beautiful, ugly, ordinary, charming; And has mastered the art of indifference. And attention from such a man will make a woman feel special, superior over all the female-kind he has ever met, seen or touched. He gives me another glance. This time, he smiles. "There!", he says. I look at myself into the mirror. What has this man done to me? I look even more beautiful!

I get up and walk out, loving the way my heart creates little love stories for me all the time, and thinking about showing off my new haircut!

♥  There is a little love in every moment  ♥