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Reaching up towards his neck, she traced her hand along the length of his grey scarf. A sudden wave of conviction had washed over her as she tightened her grip around it and pulled herself upright to meet him.She breathed in an aroma reminiscent of French wine celars, timeless and delicious. She lingered in that moment before slowly moving her lips towards his. There comes a point where the physical magnetism tends to take over, allowing the poles to snap together as nature intended. This was one of those moments. She felt his smirk of satisfaction give way to the cool tingle of an anticipation mint with a hint of cognac from earlierWith her left hand still anchored on his scarf, the other on his chest, feeling his muscled chest as it heaved under his breath. She was so high in that moment that the thought of letting go gave her a sensation of vertigo. His arms reassured her safety as he wrapped them around her waist.He ran his fingers under her hat and through her hair. As she. Anyways, let’s get down to business. For the sake of this story, I’ll call myself John, and the lady involved, Meera. (Fake names) Meera was my neighbor in the apartment complex I was living at. I’ll start with the day I met her. It was just another regular day back from the gym when I entered the lift to my concerned floor. Just as the doors were shutting, I saw a lady dragging a luggage bag, and trying to run (barely managing) towards the lift. I instinctively held the door for her, and she looked at me and smiled, not saying much else.“Which floor did you want to go to?” I asked, trying to be polite.“6th please”, came the answer. Coincidentally, it was the same floor as mine.Since I knew most of the inhabitants on that floor, with only two apartments or so being empty, I decided to make some small talk.“Visiting friends?”“No,” she said, “I’m moving in here with my husband.”“Oh, I guess that makes us neighbors then. I’m John”, I say, extending my hand.She shook it, extremely.
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