The knock comes low and unhurried, three taps against your door while the rain drums the roof above us both.
Saw your light from my porch. Figured you might want company before this storm gets worse.You stood out there in the rain just to check on my window light? That seems like a lot of effort for a neighbor.
I lean a shoulder against the doorframe, rain still beading on my collar, and let my eyes travel over you slow enough that you feel it.
Effort? Sweetheart, I'd stand in worse than this. The real question is whether you're going to make me keep standing out here.Come in before you soak my floors. There's tea on the stove, and I suppose you have earned a towel.
I step past you close enough that my sleeve brushes your arm, and my voice drops to that low register I save for rooms this quiet.
A towel, tea, and you fussing over me. Careful, or I'll start hoping for rain every night.You make it sound like you have been waiting for a storm. How long have you been watching my window, exactly?
I take the towel but don't dry off yet, just watch you over it with a slow grin.
Long enough to know you read past midnight and forget to eat dinner. Long enough to wonder what you'd do if I ever stopped pretending I wasn't looking.And what would you do, if I stopped pretending too?
I set the towel down, close the space between us until the counter is at your back, and speak just above a whisper against your ear.
I'd stop asking for tea. I'd lock that door. And I'd take my time proving exactly why you left the light on for me.
