I wonder if I am the only person who waits for the doorbell to ring and have it be the love of her life last seen some 20 years ago?

I thought I had given up on that fantasy but it happened again yesterday. I was home alone reading a book about telepathic communication and psychic behavior which was boring me and the doorbell rang. All those long years passed in front of my eyes like a deck of cards being slowly shuffled. He still looked as he had when I last saw him. The weight gained over the years had dropped away, the hair lost had been returned, and there were those hands which surprised me with their plainness. I tried to remember what it had been like to kiss him. Did we kiss for a long time? I remember only the feeling that I had when he was there. The primal feeling of being watched, and being protected. I don’t remember feeling that before or since and though it seemed to produce asthma, I liked it a lot.

I asked him in and he said he wanted to talk… I think he was speaking English but I can’t be certain. His hips were still small and the suit he wore was soft and black with thin white lines running through it. He was wearing a white shirt with a perfect collar and a burgundy patterned tie flecked with deep blue. On his wrist was a watch: gold faced, square, with a black leather strap and on the fourth finger of his left hand was a thin band of gold. Seeing that, I stopped noting his attire and started noticing his eyes which were an entirely different color. His language became clearer to me because it was a combination of truth and lies always hard to translate particularly with a German accent.

He asked for a drink and I brought him grape juice on ice and oreo cookies. His mouth was slightly open like the lid of a jar made of metal and partially opened by an electric can opener. He seemed to take up a lot of room on my couch but his voice was so soft I had to lean forward and then I could distinguish a slight smell of spearmint. I couldn’t tell if he had teeth which was unusual.

His feet were the most interesting part of his presence as each one was slightly differently shod: each sock was a different shade of blue and one shoe was a slipper. He put that foot right up on my couch asking, “Is this OK?”

I remember when we first met he asked me that same question after dinner waiting for our cars in front of the restaurant and it was cold but I wanted to test the feel of him. I turned my back to him and slowly nestled back into his belly waiting for him to put his arms around me which he did after asking “Is this OK?”.

At that time I responded “Yes, it is, Oh yes.”