The Kiss

This morning there was an unusual knock at my door. It was the kind of happy melodic knock, the good mood knock, the about to have fun knock. It was around 6am and I was still in my weekend birthday clothes ( jacket, scarf, smudged mascara, bruised legs).

I thought about ignorning it. But, after the second round, I decided to inspect this unusual arrival. The morning was grey and cars were on their Monday work parade. It was alive all around in mystic grey fog.

When I peered through the peephole, I saw a happy man. He must have heard my floorboards creak, because as I looked through the tiny window at his bulbous face, he kissed it. He kissed the air in front of the door eye. He smiled and danced (slightly). On the ground were black belongings: a helmet and a few bags. He was dressed all in black.

I laughed.

I slowly opened to door to watch his face move in suprise and slight embarassment. Wrong floor, your darling lives above me: the girl with the snakes around her neck, good skin, white cowboy boots, and a bright smile.