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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1164961
The start of a love story.

The sun is rising, the first streaks of light hitting the horizon; the rays of light piercing through the last traces of darkness, illuminating and giving breath to a new day. It is always a wondorous delight to wake up to the morning sun, it feels pure and full of hope. I have always thought that it is the perfect time for running, but this morning, as I stretch my limbs in preparation for the next hour, I cannot but help think about "her." I cannot help but stare into the distance, and loose myself in the moment. I can see her clear as day, better than if she were to be standing in front of me.

I snap out of it and begin to jog, warming up my body and forcing my heart into action. The morning is perfect, cool with a slight trace of warmnth. As I begin to speed up and ease into my rythm, I again cannot help think about "her." I always notice how people talk about initial attraction; the physical details of a person, but it is more than just physical attraction with "her," it is an energy with no word to truly describe what I feel.

The road begins to ascend, forcing to me choose between slowing my pace and giving in to the road's will, or defying what my body is begging me to do and continue to pick up the pace. The truth is that I am so lost in the thought of feeling "her" next to me, that I do not notice the pain in my knees. I force myself to concentrate on my run, feeling my body working harmoniously together. Two miles conquered and three more to go.

I saw a few days ago, I was sitting in my favorite cafe, having my usual lunch. She walked in, driven in by the enticing smell of fresh coffee beans roast, I am sure. A woman with the experience of life in her walk, in her smile, and in her eyes. I could not help but gaze into her eyes as she looked my way, God, I do not even know why she chose to look my way. But, if that old cliche-love at first sight- exist, then this was it. I was strucked by a magnatism I could not explain, and invicible thread of delicate twine tugging me in.

I left the cafe heartbroken that day, I never acted, I never smiled, I just left. I was haunted by her, by a soul I have never known, spoken to, nontheless.
Those next few days I could not understand why I was so affected by her, I did not even know her. You could say that I was angry, as silly as that sounds; but I think what I was really angry at, was the fact that I let her slip away and it was my fault. Three miles down and I am almost back to where I started, my body is finally starting to weaken, but I keep pushing it. I can see my porch, the sliding door left halfway open, allowing the new day to creep in. I my pace quickens, the last burn before my run is over. My heart is beating, ready to burst out any minute, but I do not listen. I am home, I slip into my home, heading straight for the shower.

I slip into bed, I have two hours before I have to go. "Good morning, Carmela." "Good morning, baby, how was your run?" I stare into her eyes, and all I can see is eternity.
© Copyright 2006 anima profundi (ilcercatore at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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