Incendiary

I think she called me tonight because she missed me. She said she just wanted to hear my voice. It had been more than awhile. Three months, if I do the quick math in my head. That's a little too long even for me with her. I hadn't thought about it, but I guess I wanted to hear her voice, too. Truthfully, I probably wanted to do more than hear her voice. The last time I saw her we made out shamelessly in the parking lot of a major home improvement retailer. It was one of those kisses that leave you wanting more, right then and right now all these months later.

Tonight, I was headed to a friend's house for drinks. In Austin, Texas. She was sitting in a church parking lot drinking beer. In Foreman, Arkansas. More than six impossible hours apart and definitely for the best. If we ever close that distance and find the right time, it will be incendiary. Quick, hot, and efficient.

Finally this 'thing' that has been within us for years will burn. And burn out. We may come together again every once and awhile, but it will never be the same as the first time. We will fade; our curiosity will be done. She will no longer call to hear my voice and I won't want to do more than hear her voice. At least that's what I tell myself will happen, because I know it's for the best. But until then, I'll think about that incendiary moment when we finally come together. And wish I could have done more than hear her voice tonight.