She opened it.
"Hello," he had not seen her for a week.
"Hello," she was not expecting him.
"Five minutes and thirty seconds, you said?"
He stepped in and closed the door and clumsily dived into the beautiful girl in front of him while slowly embracing his arms around her...
He felt shy, weak, small. He secretly smiled when he felt the heat of her naked arms around his back.
A strange feeling of ease and awareness crossed his body, from his toes to his hair. For a second he was aware of his left big toe, his right knee, his right lung, his left ear... It was ephemeral. All of a sudden, he found himself in an unstable equilibrium. He thought about giving up, already. He moved one of his feet, asking her subtly to stop, while at the same time he did not want that to happen. She did not react to his gesture.
He closed his eyes and found himself in a sea of calmness, her sea. He liberated himself. He forgot about his job, about his girlfriend, about his family, about his friends' advices, about his fears, his worries, his problems. He felt light until the sea became rough again.
He thought about slowly turning his head towards her. He thought about softly kissing her neck. He thought about surreptitiously walking up to her lovely face and kissing her smooth chin, her rosy cheek. He thought about shyly kissing her lips. He thought about passionately kissing her. He enjoyed the kiss, he enjoyed his thoughts. False. Lost.
"Why I am thinking about this?" He shook his head imperceptibly. "What is she thinking about?" He felt guilty for what he had been thinking. Already convicted. Prisoner of his thoughts.
"I do not know her that well," he tried to build up an excuse in his mind. He felt something he could not explain. He wanted to go. He wanted to stay. Uncomfortability. His mind was shaking. The stress conquered his body, every single region of it. He could not close his eyes again. A sad white roof. Some hand written papers on a desk. A sick abstract drawing on the cream wall. He shouted inside. Momentary release. He violently closed his eyes. Focus. He forced himself to do it. He gave his best.
Pain. The effort suddenly became release. Without expecting it. Then, he finally understood. It was not about her. It was not about them, either. It was about something more essential, it was about him. Only then he felt comfortable. Only then...
... he was able to fly. He listened to the colors, the infinite shades. He saw the music, the pristine melody. He smelled the clouds in the baroque sky. He touched her soul, his soul, two, one, within. He savoured the magic of that precise instant, the moment, the last one, the first one...
The hug was over. The end... The beginning...
"Thank you," it was not just him who was talking.
"Sure," her voice was sweet. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Actually, I feel like going for a walk, alone," he kissed her cheek. "I would love to have that cup of tea tomorrow, though."
"It will be a pleasure. I will be here," she smiled.
The Sun was shining above the horizon while she, standing at the door, watched him walking away.