sixty hours

Sixty some hours from now, I’ll be arriving in a city I’ve only seen briefly once before.  My previous experience in this city consisting of a night in a bus station several years ago.

My blood feels as if it’s coursing a little stronger throughout my body these last few days.  I find myself with a wicked grin out of nowhere, and often a little laugh to make a matched set.  My hands stray from the task at hand, and I catch them turning a quick rub of neck into a fistful of hair.  I catch my bottom lip pouting out, as if in anticipation of a mouth on mine.

Tiny details amusing me throughout the night and day.  Fabric grazing against skin sends my nerve endings into high gear.  Fastening the buckle on my shoes, pulling up the zipper on my skirt, I think of doing the opposite.

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