I stare into my coffee gone cold. The bar is closing down for the night, and there seems to be no one here but me and the worn-out bartender, who stands at his end of the long mahogany slab, with his button down shirt sleeves rolled up, cleaning glasses. I fidget. I don’t want to go home. I like it here. It’s like time has stopped around me.

He’s nearing asking me to leave. The dusty clock on the wall behind the bar says 3 AM. Last call was hours ago, and this man is too kind to ask me to go. I guess he doesn’t have the heart to send a pale twenty-year old woman out into the rain to trudge home alone at this hour. Maybe I can play on his kindnesses for just a little while longer.

My novel lies face-down in front of me, it seems so odd of someone to bring a book to a bar. But on a weekday, there’s little crowds. And I enjoy reading with the hum of conversation in the background, it makes me feel less isolated. Tonight was fairly slow, just the regulars and I, a few newcomers dodging in for a pint to escape the chilly November drizzle.

I drank coffee all night. Drinking hasn’t been on my mind lately. Perhaps I should ask the bartender to give me a refill, and a splash of Bailey’s to spice it up a little. I don’t want to bother him however, so I just pick up my cup.

My lipstick stains glisten under the glow of the low-wattage bulbs in this room, shimmering against the bleak atmosphere of the tiny bar.

I take a deep sip, and the caffeine buzz makes my hands tremble. I splash a bit on the bar. I stare at it for just a moment, and reach for the dispenser next to me for a napkin, without looking.

Instead of finding the grainy texture of cheap paper napkin, my fingers meet warm flesh. I jump a bit in my seat, and recoil. I hear a low, deep-throated chuckle next to my ear.

The heat rises in my cheeks, and my heart leaps into my windpipe. I keep my eyes down, staring at the little puddle of coffee on the bar. I try to calm myself, and maintain my composure. I’m frightfully embarassed by my reaction. I didn’t think anyone else was in this place.I’m about to meekly apologize, when a long, pale hand covers mine.

“It’s quite alright, love. I didn’t mean to scare you.” A lightly accented male voice says. A shiver crawls down my spine. I stare at that perfect hand rested over mine. Piano fingers, long and meant to strum, or dance along keys. Hands meant to spin heavenly music out of gossamer.

“I should be sorry,” I mumble to my coffee cup, ” I didn’t know anyone else was here beside myself and the barkeep.”

A musical laugh tinkers out next to me, in the void of the space beyond my peripheral vision. I swallow nervously, and gingerly slide my hand out from under this strangers.

My hand feels cold as soon as I do, and I want to put it back, but I force that feeling back, leaving my hand open on the bar.

I shake my hair into my face, and just wish him away. I don’t want any trouble. Surely, this man is drunk.

I glance down the bar towards the bartender, hoping to catch his eye, so he can distract my new companion long enough for me to just leave out the back door. He’s nowhere to be found, and I can hear the tinkling of glass bottles from the room behind the bar. Of course he picked that moment to go rotate the wine bottles in the back.

I sigh, and pluck a napkin out of the dispenser. I sop up the little puddle of coffee, and crumple up the paper. I close my book, and slide out of my chair. It’s time for me to leave here.

“Wait a moment.” Says that disembodied voice. I pause, and take a deep breath. I don’t want to look up. I should just push on, and go back home. It’s nearing 4AM. I square up my shoulders, pushing the air out of my lungs, and straighten out my 5’8″ frame.

I look up at him. I instantly regret my decision. I’m caught in his essence. A man stands before me, tall and lanky. His beautiful blue eyes twinkle merrily down at me. I suck in a bit of air, and find myself running my eyes along his face. He’s angelic. High, proud cheekbones, a fine, sharp jawline with a neatly trimmed beard highlighting a stunning contrast to the paleness in his face.

His hair is dark brown, and I feel in must smell like honey. It curls along his proud high forhead, playfully touseled.

I stand stock still, breathless. He smiles down at me, with brilliantly white teeth. The corners of his eyes crinkle with merriment.

“Um, excuse me. I must be on my way.” I stammer, shouldering past this beautiful human being. I desperately need to get out of here.

Those beautiful hands rest lightly on the crook of my elbow. I shudder.

“Miss, are you alright?” That musical voice asks, suddenly worried. I shake inwardly, but I turn around.

“I’m alright. It’s growing late. I need to be going.” I find myself saying clearly, without a slight tremble. I’m quite proud of myself for that. I can feel myself losing my panic and relax. I look the stranger in his beautiful face.

He smiles, relieved.

“I’m glad of that. Here I was thinking I scared you.” He says, still resting that hand upon my arm.

“No, no. You just caught me coming out of a bit of a daydream spell, Mr?”

“Thomas,” He says, “Most call me Tom.”

I pause a moment. That name seems so familiar. Like I’ve know this man all of my young life. I furrow my brow, concentrating on trying to pull that name out of a foggy cloud of my long-ago memories.

“I’m sorry, have we met before, Tom?” His name tingles on my lips. I must know him from a life long past, I think to myself.

“Alas, I believe not, Miss. But I’d like to make my introductions, if I’m not being too bold.” He says, smiling down at me. He’s charming. Those eyes, so open and honest stare at me with hope.

” No, surely you’re not. I was being awfully rude, trying to run from you.” I said, taking my eyes off of him just for a moment to dig in my jeans pocket for money to pay for my coffee. He waves me off, producing a few bills out of the breast pocket of his overcoat.

He sets it on the bar, just as the barkeep comes out of the back room. He nods at me, and Tom, and puts it in the till.

“Why, thank you,” I say, ” I hope that wasn’t too much trouble.”

A light snort of playfulness escapes his lips. He shakes his head, no, then offers his arm to me.

“You were leaving? Perhaps I could walk you home.” He offers without skipping a beat. I slide my arm to link with his.

” I was. I live down the street from here.” I explain, ” I often can’t sleep, so I wander down here on occasion.”

He grins with a boyish delight, that looks absolutely delicious on his manly features.

“Well, it’s a good thing I ducked in here to avoid the rain. I’d hate to see a lady walking home in this alone.” My heart leaps in my chest. It’s hard to breathe.

We walk out the door of the bar. The early morning light is trying to fight it’s way through the haze of the grey rain. It looks beautiful on the abandoned street littered with colorful splashes of fallen leaves. Our footsteps on the sidewalk are the only sound on the lonely little avenue as we make our way towards my tiny apartment.

As we near, I find my body aching. I don’t want him to leave my side. I’m so comfortable, leaning into him slightly, keeping in step with his long legs. Finally, someone could match my great strides.

We make it to the steps of my apartment building, and I enter the code call to be let in. He remains silent next to me, watching my movements. There is what seems to me to be a crackling static of silence, much akin to the sound that greets you when the music has ended.

I hear the familiar gruff buzz of the door lock, signalling the door has been unlocked, and I may enter. I turn,

“It was lovely meeting you Tom.” He remains still, just watching me. I feel self-conscious of my movements. The butterflies have ruptured out of my stomach and into my throat. If I were to open my mouth, they’d escape in a cloud of dainty butterfly wings.

“It was lovely meeting you, Miss.” He says quietly. I step off the stair to shake his slender hand.

Suddenly, I feel myself being pulled to him. The top of my head rests just under his chin, as he embraces me. I warm with embarassment, then just melt into it.

Those beautiful fingers brush back my hair, and wander down my face to cup my chin. I allow him to tip back my head, so my face is upturned.

He leans in, and those lovely smiling lips meet mine. A spark archs between our lips. I’m pulled into a sea of everything that is him. I have vanished from existence. I have found God, or something much like it. I feel as if I’m everything and yet nothing. I have vaporized out of my layers of clothing, and become atune to the air around me. The partictles that are my being have met with the cool morning air, and I’ve been greeted back home to nature.

His lips taste like cool sweet mint.

I wake blinking in my bed. The early morning light lances into my tired eyes, and I scrunch up my face against it. My bedroom is lit with the mid-afternoon light filtering through the curtains, causing a pale glow. It’s blurry without my glasses on, and I squint.

How did I get here? I wonder.

My mind can’t seem to get itself straight. It’s awakening from a sleep so deep, I feel drunk. I shift over towards the edge of the bed, grasping blindly for my glasses folded on the nightstand. What happened? Was he just a dream?

Suddenly I find myself back on the steps of my apartment. I can smell the intoxicating aroma of decaying leaves and damp earth. I feel my apartment key pressed into my palm, cold metal digging into the skin. I taste him on my lips, feel his curls between my fingers, soft and warm, and smelling- much to my surprise and delight, honey.

I curl my fingers into that beautiful hair, and pull his mouth closer to mine, deepening the kiss. I’m fluctuating between reality and an otherworldliness so sweet.

I feel as if what I remember of my return home this morning is so fantastic it’s foolish. Too much coffee I suppose. I grasp the corner of my duvet, and fling it to the side, sliding my legs off the edge of my bed, and dig my toes into the soft carpet. My little black cat has emerged from his nest of my clothes on the floor, and is curling around my ankle, eager for his breakfast.

I stand and stretch luxuriously, delighting in the afterglow of my dreams. I’d not slumbered that well in months. I reach for my robe, plucking it off the back of my desk chair, and slide into it. I could really go for a cup of coffee right now.

I shuffle into my tiny kitchenette, consisting of a tiny range stove, itty bitty sink, with a breakfast table jammed into the “breakfast nook”. One could hardly claim it to be a nook, it was more like a breakfast slot.

I commence to making my coffee, and stand in the window staring down at the front steps, hugging my robe closer to my body. It’s fully day now. The street is bustling with pedestrians, and a few cars. I liked this location, less noise and traffic. I lean into the frame of the window, fingers wrapped around my cup, cold hands absorbing the warmth of the ceramic.

I hear the coffee brewing, and my cat pads up behind me, mewing a greeting. He jumps onto the table next to me and commences a gruff purr. I smile, and reach out to scratch his furry head.

My fingers connect with warm, furless flesh. I gasp. And turn to look. I’m face to face with an angel from my dreams. His sleepy blue eyes seem to smile just as much as his lips are. His hair is tousled moreso than before from a night’s rest. Lithe, pale arms slide around my waist, and I’m pulled close. I smell mint and honey.

A sleepy, lightly accented voice whispers in my ear, “What would you like for breakfast, Miss?”