I couldn't meet his gaze. I stared at the table just behind him--the mess of cards on it, the lantern giving off its quiet glow. "When you gave me your shirt to wear that night, I could feel you. I could feel your essence."

The world went still. We were standing only inches from each other, not touching. Outside, I could hear the faint murmur of the wind blowing through the trees.

"What did it feel like?" he asked in a low voice.

"Like...coming home," I admitted.

Auteur: L.A. Weatherly

I couldn't meet his gaze. I stared at the table just behind him--the mess of cards on it, the lantern giving off its quiet glow. "When you gave me your shirt to wear that night, I could feel you. I could feel your essence."<br /><br />The world went still. We were standing only inches from each other, not touching. Outside, I could hear the faint murmur of the wind blowing through the trees.<br /><br />"What did it feel like?" he asked in a low voice.<br /><br />"Like...coming home," I admitted. - L.A. Weatherly

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