The delicate curve of her neck, her slender arms gleaming in the sunlight that doesn’t reach down to street level, the proud bosom hugged by blue fabric. Dimples, freckles, dyed black hair, painted blue nails. I stare, that is all I can do, and spread my hands in a non-committing gesture of confusion. Please understand, please guide me, lead me, love me. Again that laugh, and she rolls her eyes to my helpless condition. A thumb and a nod tell me, around the corner, and an amused eyebrow whispers, you clown. I blow her a kiss, it seems appropriate, and attack the pungent river of crowd oozing along around me. A purpose, a focus. I have a goal now. To reach the angel, to take her in my arms and let her carry my drifting soul in whatever direction she sees fit. It is trust at it’s most basic. I have to trust my love, and the memory of a nursery rhyme on constant repeater in my head. Come here, come hither, little boy… Yes, I’m coming. Wait for me. Please wait. ‘Hotel,’ says the sign. I rifle through my clothes, gathering what I need; socks, polo shirt, bra, knickers, skirt? I did shave my legs last night, and it's still warm, might as well take the excuse. I make my way out of my room, through the already open door, thanks Mum, didn't want privacy or anything, and make my way down the hall to the bathroom, thankfully, it's free.I put my clothes on a ledge while I nip to the shower and turn it on, then immediately dart out. Thing doesn't warm up very quickly, I'll brush my teeth while I wait. I look in the mirror while I brush, dark green eyes stare back at me, freckles along my cheeks, and fleshy pink lips, even if you couldn't see my hair you'd be able to tell I was ginger, my lily-white skin practically glows in the dark. I put away my toothbrush, and grab a towel out of the cupboard, place it on a hook next to the shower and begin the remove my pyjamas. I never worry too much about my body, guess all my insecurity lies on top of my head, I'm pretty slim, my.
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