He placed the used match on the top of the box with such precision that my eyes followed his hand
The lit cigarette smoke swirled round his head and I looked at him as though through a fog. I was mesmerised by his look, it was as though his eyes pierced my very being, my soul. I tried to breathe calmly but my heart was racing.
It had only been minutes since he had strode towards me, boot heels clicking on the polished tiles of the hotel foyer. But it had seemed a life time had past.
It was a madness to meet him again but that moment when he had phoned had caught me in my despair, my loneliness my empty emptiness.
I hated the smoke that now curled toward me and I tried to look away, but his eyes held me in their stare and I was trapped. I felt spent just like the match and like the match there was no going back to how I once was.
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