I close my eyes as I move closer to her crimson lips. I struggle to listen as her words seem within grasp but are just a tiny bit too far away. I squint my eyes, to listen harder, but to no avail. The lips pause with a slight smile and I mumble a response. I can't even tell myself what I had mumbled. She tilts her head and tucks her hair behind her ear. Did she even understand? What was it I said?

Trying to maintain my decency, I move my ear closer millimetre by millimetre. Her warm breath cascading over my skin as a warm wave. Tingling the hair in my neck and slowly moving towards my back. Gentle and comfortable, like the coat that I regret to have forgotten to bring along. Yet her words still evade me, I can see only the occasional sign of her crimson lips. They play a vivid play almost like a dance, as if her story were a ballet performance. She moves back and laughs, moving her hand to her lips.

Although funny, I didn't say a thing, I didn't hear a thing. Was her laughing a mere uncomfortable response to my ear moving closely. Was she laughing at someone else's story? Insecurity grabbed me as I sensed myself slipping away. The clarity in my mind gives way to primal fears, insecurity and uncertainty. I didn't know whether to laugh too, but then I just did, involuntary. No more careful planning, but my mind moved away and I saw myself from a distance, unable to influence, unable to orchestrate, left only to my instinctual responses.