Chance Meeting
by Patricia Behrens
I was ground floor. He was three floors up. I remember how air stirred when he opened the door for me to his apartment. All fall we talked across his couches, as evening light faded, he by the window, I by the wall. We talked of old lovers, his work, my studies. By spring, our voices wove invisible strands that vibrated between the couches. By summer, the strands pulled me to his bed where, for the first time, we kissed. He moved his hands through my hair. It was blond and heavy and hung to my waist. He wove it into braids, moving his hands across my body as he wove. That spring, he’d sometimes still walk the lobby past my door with other women. Once, I let myself in with my key and found a woman in his bed— and laughed knowing, as I did, that only I mattered.
Patricia Behrens lives in Manhattan. She is a lawyer and writer whose poetry has appeared in a variety of publications, including THINK, New Verse Review, Crab Orchard Review, Capsule Stories, and Hamilton Stone Review.