Standing on the corner where we would part ways, we stopped walking and turned towards each other. It was beginning to rain. We said our farewells, and she seemed like she would be receptive to a kiss, so I leaned in and our lips met. We stopped for a moment, I pulled her head towards mine and kissed again.
I’d never see her again. It hadn’t been a particularly bad date, but not a particularly good one, either. Neither of us would attempt to contact one another again. She was cute and smart, I could even say funny, but we just didn’t really click. I had to go in for the second kiss to be sure, though. No sparks flew.
Then again, some relationships just seem to be a matter of being able to tolerate someone half the time and loving them the other half. Do sparks have to fly at the start?
Two people meet. Sparks fly. Their sparks ignite one another–a burning passion spreads. Their fire roars until all that is left is ashes. Is this how things are supposed to work?
This story is part of a series of stream of consciousness writings.