Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. Her senses were prickled when she felt a new pair of eyes upon her. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. In her case the barrier was not selfishness but the perception that her interest would be misinterpreted, naturally. Go to it. It felt too good. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. gutenberg. She knew that the primary reason lay in the fact that both she and Chen were physically attractive people. “You will pardon me, sir,” he said in a subdued tone, “but I think that you have forgotten to look at your engagement book. There was a pause, and then the front door slammed.
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