Meeting memory.

I met her like I met you. She walked up to me, bold as anything and said, "I'd like to get to know you." She was so young and serious, baby cheeked and smiling with fuck me eyes over coffee. I understood why you told me once that I terrified you.

She undresses me with her eyes and I blush and smile.  She tells me I am dignified and beautiful and wise.

I feel like a dirty old crone.

When she kisses my palm and gives me her burning eyes, I understand you. And I miss you. And when she kisses me I know, me.