#ruby686

It started as many things do: with coffee. The bittersweet scalding liquid rolling over the tongue, warmer than outside could ever hope to be. It started with the parting of soft lips into a smile, all shining teeth and mirth-filled eyes glowing like a crackling fireplace in a way that could only ever be sincere.

It started with a chance encounter. Bustling streets with strangers huddled into their jackets, hidden underneath thick wool scarves racing against time to get to the bus, to the subway, to their cars, to their homes. It started with a slight jostling, an accidental bump. Mumbled apologies transmitted through frozen clouds of breath. Rosy, wind-whipped cheeks and fluttering eyelashes barely seen through a flurry of long hair.  

It started with books. The oppressive silence of such a large building broken only by the occasional cough or sniffle, the turning of pages, the reverent running of fingers over spines of well-worn stories. It started with the discovery of an old favorite, with wild hand gestures and an obvious delight that was absolutely contagious, that couldn’t help but be received with equal excitement.

It started with the sunset. The golden rays bouncing off of disorderly curls as the lights of the city flickered on one by one until they could rival the sun itself. It started with closed eyes, a smattering of freckles, head tilted up to revel in the dying sun’s last rays of heat. Sitting on the rusty hood of a junked car looking utterly at peace with the world.

It started with a song. The booming bass of a tune nestling its way into a chest, into a pair of lungs, into a life itself. It started with flashes of blue, purple, orange light reflecting off of sweat-glistened skin. Mini hurricanes of flailing limbs controlled by bodies swaying to the heartbeat of an entire room. A voice hoarse from singing, from screaming, from laughing, head thrown back triumphantly while challenging life to do its worst.