Proximity

My working week is done, so, probably utterly unsurprisingly to anyone who reads this blog with any regularity, I've headed to my local. The last link in a moderately convoluted route was the bus up from the nearest mainline station to here. The bus was busy, too, but I managed to find a niche towards the back of the top deck. And it proved to be a bit of serendipity, because a couple of stops later, a very cute boy got on and sat right in front of me, close enough for me to be able to have seen the little drops of sweat (it's very warm and humid here this afternoon) dripping from the bottom of his light brown hair and down onto the back of his neck. Close enough, too, for me to have leaned forward and kissed the single freckle on the back of his right hand when he moved it to fiddle with his hair - and, oh, what a temptation it was to do just that, only the certainty of his screaming blue murder, and the near certainty of my subsequent arrest, if I'd succumbed to the urge keeping me in check. The perennial frustration of the boylover in a world that reviles us - those that we wish to love and cherish so near, but always just out of reach.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B