Stories of the Lost and Found

Your eyes pierce through me like glass, leaving me breathless and always wanting more. I could sit with you for hours in a coffee shop, legs draped over you, with Hemingway in my hand.  But you don't drink coffee and I don't believe in love  

As she laid there with her head on his bare chest, watching the world go up and down with every rise and fall of his breath, she already knew this was the last time she would find herself here. The heart knows things before the brain can even comprehend them. She could hear the coffee percolating in the other room and she laid there waiting for the aroma to drift throughout the house, knowing she would stay in this spot long after it was done. She started to count the freckles on his chest while tracing the birthmark on his side, seeing the way he slept with his hands stuck in the edge of his boxers. She sighed. You don’t forget things like that, do you? It’s always the little things that stick with you, making your heart tug when you think about them. She didn’t love him though, she had realized that, but yet she couldn’t leave every time she tried. She had never loved any of them had she? Oh but she had. She’d loved them all but then she didn’t. That’s what scared her. You know when ...