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There is this man I love. I love his dark eyes and short blonde curls. I love the little wrinkles around his eyes or the look he gives me when he sits before me. I love how his calloused fingers brush mine when he hands me the money and the soft smile he gives me when I take his order. I love how he wrinkles his nose when he enters the pub and takes his scarf off, and how his eyes shine when I ask about his day. I love how his blouse hugs his arms and torso tightly and how the whiskey glass looks so small in his hand.
I love our little chats at the slow hours and unfunny jokes only we understand. I love how he always waits until the end of my shift and waves me goodbye as I enter the cab. I love these early winter mornings when we sit at my fireplace not realising how we got here and those late summer evenings we spend watching football in the narrow booth in the corner of the pub I work at.
I love his arms around my waist and my head on his bare chest, listening to his slow pulse. I love the scars on his body whose history is unknown to me, or the hugs he gives me after being long gone, or maybe even those takeouts he brings me in the middle of the night after being long gone.
I’ve just remembered I never gave him my address…
I love how our relationship is unpredictable… How he spends the nights sitting at the bar as I serve him the good old bourbon and then he disappears. He’s gone for weeks, sometimes months but he always comes back, always to me. I love how I feel when he suddenly sits at my bar or when he greets me with a soft kiss in the middle of the night. I love how his hands hands explore my body and how his head is buried in my collarbones. I love how he knows me like the back of his hand when I barely know his name. I love how I fit him like a glove and how he whispers sweet nothings. I love how he’s merely a stranger yet he’s the only thing I can think of. I love how I wake up alone in the morning and can’t wait for my shift to meet him.
I love how everytime he comes back he buys me roses and how they slowly dry as I wait for him again. I love the sharp pain in my chest and the knot in my stomach as I flip the page of my calendar. I love how I bite my nail as the clock nears the hour I clock out and how I worry as I wake up alone again and know that he won’t be coming to the pub again.
He always surprised me in the strangest ways… I just wish he was the one to tell me I was his emergency contact.