The Angry Dream

She was even lovelier than my memory of her. I watched her as she walked into the room, admiring the smooth movement of her fine legs and the curves under the soft weave of her sweater.

She tossed her thick dark hair back and walked over to me.

“It’s been a long time, Al.” Her voice still had the husky breathless sound that made my ears burn.

I stepped close to her and put my hands on her waist. Her head went back, her eyes shining at me with bitterness and confusion and something else I couldn’t read. I drew her to me and felt the soft impact of her body and kissed her—her throat and then her lips. Her mouth opened and her body abandoned itself to mine, her fingernails digging at my back.