I stood next to her. Facing her. I let my eyes trace every line. Every curve. I closed my eyes, and slowly inhaled. Her being there was a dream come true. A fantasy brought to life. She was grace, and elegance brought to life. I extended my hand, letting my fingertips lightly touch her, tracing her curves. I wanted to know every curve by heart. I walked around her, my fingers barely contacting her. She was a work of art. My pulse raced as I circled her. My senses drinking her in.
She was heavenly.
She was mine.
The first time I met her was in the woods, the day I’d started looking for someone new. I’d driven all over town. Then all over the countryside. And found nothing. Everything was the same. Until I found that place in the woods. In the last place I’d have ever looked for it. And there she was. Resting next to an oak. Rays of sunlight filtering through the leaves and branches, highlighting her features.
I fell in love in that moment.
I had to have her.
It took three months. Three months to work out the financial details. Three months of negotiating. Three months of planning. I did whatever I had to do to get her. To make her mine. And in the end, there she was. Sitting in my driveway. A black metal work of art, with a hand stitched leather interior.
And she was all mine.
This is my entry into Siobhan Muir’s 53rd #ThursThreads flash fiction challenge. I read the prompt this week (The first time I met her was in the woods.) And I couldn’t resist the thought that just popped into my head. That said, go read all the entries this week. You can find them here: